Playing with Snakes
by thusspakekate
Summary: Draco Malfoy and Pansy Parkinson may be the unrivaled King and Queen of Slytherin House, but that doesn't mean they get along. What is a relationship, but a struggle for dominance? Warnings: Raunchy smut, bad language, all the fun stuff.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: I am currently in the process of revising and updating this fic. I will be working chapter by chapter. The plot will the same, but the text will be edited to remove errors, cliches, and formatting mistakes. (Or, as many of them as I can catch!) If the quality of writing sharply declines between chapters, I apologize. I'll get to all of them, I promise.**

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><p>Pansy gripped her glass of Firewhiskey so hard that her knuckles turned white. She was trying to ignore the disgusting display on the other side of the Slytherin common room. Daphne Greengrass was leaning against the wall, smiling coquettishly at Draco Malfoy, who had one hand pressed casually against the wall behind her and the other playing with the curling ends of her hair. He bent to whisper into Daphne's ear, who giggled and blushed. It made Pansy sick. She tightened the grip on her drink and threw it back, swallowing the rest of the burning liquid in one easy gulp.<p>

"If you squeeze that glass any tighter, you're going to break it," Tracey Davis said mildly from her seat next to Pansy.

Tracey's attentions were also focused on the pair on the other side of the room, but her face didn't hold the anger that Pansy felt, just amused boredom. Unable to think of a cutting retort, Pansy snorted and reached for the half-empty bottle of liquor to refill her drink. She leaned back into the sofa and glared at the swirling brown liquid in her glass.

"He's just doing it to wind you up, you know," Tracey continued. "He only gets off with her because he know it drives you spare."

"It's not just Daphne—although he knows how much I hate her," Pansy said from behind her glass. "Is there any Slytherin girl within two years of us who hasn't had it off with him?"

"Millicent," Tracey replied without skipping a beat, her lips pressed together as she tried to contain a smirk.

Pansy's laughter was lighter than she felt. "Oh, of course. Thanks so much, Tracey. Me and Millicent, the only girls that Draco Malfoy wouldn't condescend to touch. At least Millie can comfort herself between some other slag's legs. I haven't the luxury."

Tracey quirked an eyebrow. "How do you know if you've never tried?"

Pansy took a prim sip from her glass and chanced a sidelong glance at her friend, trying to decide whether or not to inform Tracey that she had, in fact, _tried _once.

Feigning an air of bored indifference, Pansy waved her hands. "I had an _encounter _with a girl from Beauxbatons at Yule Ball. It's nothing against her personally, she was lovely really, but it's not for me."

Tracey looked as though she wanted to press for further information, but knew that Pansy was unlikely to divulge anything more. Although Slytherins had a well-earned reputation for experimentation and mischief, most people chose to keep their nocturnal activities close to the cuff. They may be the least likely of all the houses to judge another person's sexual proclivities, but that wouldn't stop them from using it against each other. Blackmail was a house tradition.

"Is Millie even here tonight?" Pansy asked, changing the subject and scanning the common room.

"Thinking about giving it another go?" Tracey teased. "You might fair better in the more experienced hands of someone like Millie."

Pansy's withering glare wiped the smirk off Tracey's face. "Davis, please do not make me regret confiding in you. I would really hate if something you've shared with me in confidence – something about Gregory Goyle and a case of butterbeer – were to become public knowledge. What would poor Theo think?"

Tracey grumbled and adjusted in her seat. "Come off it Pans, I was only joking. And no, she's not here. I don't think she'll be back tonight either. She's had her head up some fifth-year Ravenclaw's skirt for the past two weeks. You'd think she'd have to come up for air eventually."

Pansy's eyes widened. Millicent had been seeing someone for two whole weeks and she'd yet to hear about it? There was a time that no one in their year got up to anything without her knowing. She must be losing her touch.

"It's all very hush-hush," Tracey continued. "The Ravenclaw girl – I think her name is Rosalyn – has a boyfriend. Its all going to get rather messy, I expect."

All thoughts of the platinum-haired prat and his dishwater-blonde whore were pushed from Pansy's mind as she turned to face Tracey and demanded to hear everything she knew. If anything could make her feel better, it was gossip.

Blaise and Theo approached the sitting area, just as Tracey was finishing a rather juicy story about the group of Hufflepuffs who'd walked in on Millie and her new fling mid-muff dive in the back of the Restricted Section. They were talking animatedly about the upcoming quidditch season, completely oblivious to the fact that their loud conversation had interrupted a hushed one. Blaise grabbed the bottle of firewhiskey from Pansy and poured a drink before plopping down in the empty space next to her. He reclined and stretched his arms across the back of the settee and let his long legs fell apart casually. Pansy and Tracey shared a short, annoyed look.

Theo noticed the exchange and swooped down to place a chaste, but lingering kiss on Tracey's lips. Pansy rolled her eyes and made a disgusted sound, unconsciously shifting away from the couple. Public displays of affection were just tacky. Even if she did have someone to kiss, she'd never be so obvious about it.

She wasn't short on admirers, she reminded herself. Her position in the social hierarchy of Slytherin guaranteed male attention. She'd had a number short flings with the boys in her year and a few in the years above her, but she'd yet to have a relationship last more than a few months. Once the thrill of the chase was gone, her lovers' admiring praises began to sound more sycophantic than sincere. Everywhere Pansy went, people shrank in fear and admiration of the undisputed Bitch of Slytherin. And although she found that sort of power intoxicating, she wasn't interested in the grovelling idiots that surrounded her. Pansy wanted a boy – nay, a man! – who would stand up and match her blow for blow. What was the fun of a relationship if there wasn't a constant struggle for dominance?

If only her Father would let her transfer to Durmstrang. Those men probably knew how to treat a lady.

Draco Malfoy was the only boy in her year that had never attempted to woo her. They had known each other since they were young. They had spent hours together as children, chasing house-elves and playing exploding snap, running wild through the extensive gardens of Malfoy Manor while their mothers sipped tea and socialized politely.

When her parents went abroad on holiday each summer, she was sent to stay with the Malfoys. Both she and Draco had been only-children, growing up in overly large and stately homes, purposefully isolated from the nearby wizarding towns. The weeks that she spent with he Malfoys were her happiest memories from childhood, the only times she could remember not feeling lonely.

During those visits, she would sneak into Draco's room after the rest of the house had gone to bed. They would play Wizard's Chess, tell each other stories, and plan pranks to play on unsuspecting house-elves the next day. Every morning Mrs Malfoy would find them curled up together in his large bed, the very picture of childish innocence. Narcissa knew that one day she would have to forbid these nocturnal visits, for propriety's sake, but not yet. They were still so young, there wasn't any harm to indulging their close friendship. But, luckily for Narcissa, life has a way of sorting these things out on its own.

Things began to change between the two of them when they came to Hogwarts. At first they had been just as close as ever, chatting excitedly on the Hogwarts Express with the children from other Pureblood families. They had hugged and laughed when they were both sorted into Slytherin, Draco admitting that he'd had a nightmare in which he was sorted into Hufflepuff, was rejected by his friends, and disowned by his father. Pansy squeezed his hand reassuringly as she skipped through the Slytherin portrait hole for the first time. She turned and planted a wet kiss on his cheek.

"_Don't worry, Draco," _she had told him._ "I'd never stop being your friend, even if you were the biggest Hufflepuff in Hogwart's history! _At the time, she hadn't noticed his face scrunch or his hand shoot up to wipe his cheek, as he glanced around to make sure none of the other students had seen.

It became painfully obvious during the first few months of their schooling that the easy familiarity and intimacy they'd shared during her visits to the Manor would not continue now that they were at school. It was no longer just Pansy and Draco, but Pansy, Draco, and all the other first-year Slytherins. It was hard to find a moment alone with him since Vince and Greg were always trailing behind like lumbering shadows, and Pansy had very little patience for the dim-witted boys. She missed Draco's companionship at times, but as her friendships with Tracey, Millie, and Daphne grew stronger, she noticed his absence less and less. As much fun as she and Draco had always had together, it was nice to be around other girls for the first time in her life.

When she visited the Manor in the summer between their first and second year, she didn't sneak into Draco's room at night, and he never mention her absence. Between second and third year, she accepted an invitation to stay with Tracey instead. She hadn't been back to the Manor since, and was surprised when Draco pulled her aside one night during their fourth year to ask her to accompany him to the Yule Ball. She remembered eyeing him suspiciously as he asked.

"Don't worry, my intentions aren't amorous," Draco drawled absently as he examined his fingernails. "It just seemed appropriate that we attend the ball together, being the most popular male and female Slytherins in our year. I expect you will get multiple invitations, and I wanted to make sure mine was the first. It wouldn't do if I got stuck escorting Millicent or Daphne's little sister."

Pansy had been right to view his invitation with suspicion, but she hadn't been able to stop the tiny hope in her chest that it had been a sincere request, that of all the girls at Hogwarts he'd actually _want _to take her. She recovered from her disappointment quickly and schooled her features. "I have received a number of invitations already," she lied, "but I have yet to promise myself to anyone. I'll let you know by the end of the week whom I choose." She knew even then that despite how many boys might ask her to the ball, she would choose Draco.

The ball had been disastrous, even though the evening had started well enough. A few minutes of awkward and stilted conversation quickly melted into a familiar rapport. Pansy stood watch while Draco spiked their glasses of pumpkin juice with firewhiskey and they laughed together as the contraband substance made their heads feel light. Draco was a capable dancer, no doubt forced into lessons by his parents. Pansy couldn't help but forget the formality of their date as he twirled her around the dance floor. It was the first time in years that Pansy saw Draco smile for her – just her – and it had made her heartbeat skip.

But the moment they were sharing had been rudely interrupted as Blaise swooped in, capturing Pansy around her waist and twirling her so that she faced him.

"Mind if I cut in?" He asked, without waiting for a reply before pulling Pansy away. She hadn't been able see the offended look of protest on Draco's face as Blaise's forceful grip tugged her into the crowd.

When the song ended she thanked Blaise for the pleasure of his company, even as she rolled her eyes. She may have been raised to have impeccable manners, but that didn't mean she wouldn't let her displeasure go unknown. She snaked her way through the crowd until she found Draco, standing stiffly at the edge of the dance floor.

"Sorry about that," she slid next to him and smiled.

"No bother," Draco replied without looking at her. "I've already made it clear that this was a practical engagement, not a social one. You're free to do whatever you want with whomever you want—" Pansy opened her mouth to protest, to tell him that she hadn't wanted to dance with Blaise, or anyone else for that matter. Draco was the only person she wanted to dance with that evening. But she snapped her mouth closed as Draco finished his thought and said, "—and so am I."

Pansy watched Draco's back disappear into the crowd with a mixed feeling of anger, shock, and humiliation. When she found him twenty minutes later, he was seated at a table next to a blonde girl from Beauxbatons, his hand playing with the bottom hem of her knee length dress. She knew it was irrational to be so angered by the sight – Draco had made it clear that this wasn't an actual date – but she was beyond rationality. Even if there was nothing between them, openly flirting with another girl while he was supposed to be her escort was rude. She stormed over to where Theo, Vince, and Greg were standing in the corner and demanded that they share the bottle of firewhiskey they'd smuggled in. The boys shared a nervous look and handed the bottle over promptly.

After she was pleasantly pissed, Pansy spent the rest of the evening dancing, laughing, and flirting with every boy who inquired of her, making sure to send an icy glare at Draco every few minutes. Eventually she found herself seated in the lap of a strong Durmstrang boy and surrounded by a motley crew of inebriated young witches and wizards, including the French girl whose dress had fascinated Draco earlier in the evening.

Much to Pansy's amusement, the girl confided that she had been off-put by Draco's strong advances and that she had excused herself from his company shortly after he sat down next to her. Pleased by this news, Pansy launched into a ten-minute tirade that detailed all of Malfoy's faults and a few that she had invented. She slid off the anonymous boy's lap and into the chair next to the charming French girl. They spent the next twenty minutes exchanging stories about the failures of the opposite sex.

It wasn't until a familiar drawl snapped her back to reality that Pansy realized _she_ was now playing with the hem of the girl's dress. "As much as I enjoy watching you make a fool of yourself, I feel it is my duty as your escort to inform you that your current behavior is quite appalling."

Pansy turned to find Draco standing behind her, his lips pressed into a tight line. "Get bent," she told him, the polite pretenses of her upbringing forgotten.

"Pansy, you're drunk. Let me take you back to the dungeons. This has gone far enough."

"I'm free to do whatever I want, with whomever I want. Isn't that right, Draco darling?" She quipped, then turned her back to him.

"Pansy..." the bitter edge to Draco's tone had faded into something softer. "Don't do this."

"Actually, now that I think I about it, it is getting late and I do wish to retire. But the Slytherin dungeons are so cold and lonely," she pouted and boldly slid her hand under the other girl's dress and up the inside of her thigh. "I heard you and your classmates are staying in a carriage on the grounds? I bet its beautiful at night."

The blonde girl blinked for a few moments before a cunning smile slid across her face. She pulled Pansy's hand out from underneath her skirt and intertwined their fingers. "Would you like I give you ze tour?"

Pansy was fully aware that Draco continued to stand behind her, watching them. She leaned forward, grinning slyly. Her lips ghosted over the other girl's and she whispered, "_Oui_."

Pansy rose and led the French girl from the hall. She turned to see Draco standing where she had left him, his jaw set and nostrils flared. Pansy smirked over her shoulder and sent him a wink. She had always been a little curious about what it would be like to kiss another girl, and if it wounded Draco's ego to see someone else walk out with a girl he'd been chatting up, all the better. That would teach him –

" – Shove over, Parkinson."

Pansy's thoughts were interrupted by the hard mass of another body jostling her as Draco sat himself in the space previously occupied by Tracey. Tracey had abandoned the spot to join Theo on the armchair opposite the sofa. Too small to sit two people, Tracey had settled herself on Theo's lap, her hands absently playing with his short brown hair. Pansy scooted away from Draco and as close to Blaise as she could without climbing into his lap.

Pansy and Draco's already icy relationship had turned positively arctic after Yule Ball. They were clever enough to hide the depth of their animosity from their peers and worked hard to tolerate each others' presence in social situations, but neither felt the need to hold back the barbs and insults when they found themselves alone. Less injurious teasing was acceptable in the company of friends, who simply assumed that their verbal sparring was the natural result of two dominant personalities. But there was an unspoken acknowledgment that in front of anyone who was not a member of Slytherin house, they would present a united front. It was a matter of self-preservation and house pride.

With no room left on the settee, Daphne took an unoccupied armchair and crossed her legs daintily. She shot Pansy a smug look when their eyes met, and Pansy sneered in response. By the time they reached their third year, most Slytherins didn't have to speak in order to have conversations with each other; curled lips, quirked eyebrows, and narrowed eyes could say it all.

"So, tell me Draco," Blaise began, taking a sip of the firewhiskey. "What are our chances against Gryffindor this week? Reckon this might be the year we finally get the cup back?"

Pansy rolled her eyes so hard she feared they might get stuck in the back of her head. _Great. More quidditch talk._ She supported her house without fail, but the endless rivalry between Slytherin and Gryffindor for the Quidditch Cup had always been a sore spot for the Slytherins. They hadn't won the cup once during her time at Hogwarts. Hell, they'd never even won a match against Gryffindor. Draco was a good seeker, better than most in fact, but he could never beat Potter. It seemed cosmically unfair that "the boy who lived" was also "the boy who was preternaturally good at catching golden snitches."

Draco leaned forward and smiled wolfishly at Blaise. "I think we've got a very good chance. Not only to beat Gryffindor this week, but to take the cup this season."

Blaise quirked an eyebrow expectantly.

"Father has agreed to buy me a Firebolt," Draco explained, his grey eyes gleaming. "He refused for the past few seasons, saying my poor performance against Potter was indication that I wasn't trying hard enough and didn't _deserve _the broom, but I was finally able to convince him – with help from Mother, of course – that it was only Potter's superior broom that prevented me from besting him."

"A Firebolt? Really?" Theo sat so far forward in the chair that he nearly pushed Tracey off his lap. "Where is it? Can I see it?"

"I don't have it yet. Mother is going to buy it at Quality Quidditch and owl it to me straight away. I should have it in the next day or two."

Their conversation had attracted the attention of a number of students in the common room and a small crowd formed, all talking animatedly about Draco's new broom and the possibility of finally putting the Gryffindors in their place. The excited buzz growing around Draco did nothing to help Pansy's already foul mood. As if that egotistical git needed anymore attention. Without realizing it, she let out a loud and derisive snort.

Draco turned to her. "Got something to say, Parkinson?"

Although she knew she shouldn't, Pansy was unable to pass up the opportunity to knock Draco down a bit. "You've never beaten Potter before. I don't see why you think a fancy new broom is going to change that." A tense silence fell over the gathered students. Pansy continued, encouraged by a malicious glee; she knew just where to strike. "They say a broom is only as good as its rider. You're decent, maybe even good, but you're not better than Potter. Your obsession with beating him is pathetic. You embarrass yourself."

Pansy could see that Draco was trying to smother his anger, but he was doing a rather poor job of it. "Your concern is quite touching, Pansy," he said tightly. "I wasn't aware that a frigid bitch like yourself was capable of such compassion."

"You'd be surprised what I'm capable of, darling," Pansy replied, smiling sweetly as though she and Draco were the best of friends. "And we both know that I am far from frigid. It's hardly my fault that the very site of you inspires such a feeling of revulsion within me that it can put me off sex for weeks."

"Yes," Draco agreed, "I've heard many boys attesting to just how _not-frigid_ are. In fact, if what I've heard is to be believed, I'm positive you would be more accurately described as a total slag. What was the phrase Blaise used to describe your abilities?—" Pansy shot Blaise a glare that said _I'll deal with you later. _"—It was quite colorful; something about being able to suck the varnish off of a broomstick? You must have had a lot of practice in order to be that skilled."

Younger students had begun to shuffle away, desperate to get out of the line of fire. No one wanted to be around when either Draco Malfoy or Pansy Parkinson was in a snit and the fact that they were fighting with each other was enough to make even some of their friends shift uncomfortably in their seats.

Pansy had to dig her fingernails into the palm of her hand to distract herself from the anger she felt growing. "Do I detect a hint of jealousy in your voice?" she asked, trying to keep her voice as level as possible. "One must wonder who it is you are more jealous of in this situation? Blaise or myself?"

Draco's eyes narrowed at the dig at his sexuality. "Perhaps I am a bit jealous," he said slowly. "Jealous that Blaise was able to find a proper use for that nasty little mouth of yours. Even a sloppy blow job from you would be more tolerable than listening to a minute of your whinging, screeching voice."

Pansy crossed her arms, her small-upturned nose pointing high in the air. "So which is it, darling? Am I a prude or a slag? Are my blow jobs sloppy or sensational? Make up your mind, your attempts to insult me aren't effective if they're all contradictory."

"You're right. I really don't know what I'm talking about, do I? I imagine I'm the only bloke our year that hasn't stooped so low as to have it off with you yet. I might considering degrading myself and _allowing_ you to suck me off. All for the purpose of learning how best to insult you, of course."

Draco raised his eyebrows suggestively as Pansy's eyes narrowed to small, angry slits. She was over this sparring match, he could just go fuck himself for all she cared. "In your dreams, Malfoy."

"Tell you what, Parkinson, I'll make you a little bet." Draco smiled, a toothy grin that made him look ominous and slightly feral. "If I catch the snitch this week and beat Potter, you have to suck me off—right here in the common room, where everyone can see. That way we can all determine your skill level, once and for all."

Pansy blinked in surprise for a moment. She certainly hadn't expected that, but she couldn't let him think he had thrown her. "What do I get if – I mean, _when – _you lose?"

"If, by some miracle, I don't beat Potter, you can force me to do something equally degrading and embarrassing; it's your choice. I know you, Parkinson. I know you can't pass up an opportunity like that. Even if the chances of you winning _a__re _slim."

Pansy knew Draco was right. She couldn't pass up the only chance she'd be likely to get to cut Draco down to size – and publicly, at that! – no matter the personal risk. Her vindictive nature was so strong it sometimes overpowered her common sense. It was also a matter of pride for her as well. She'd been challenged; she couldn't show weakness or fear by backing down. She couldn't let Draco think that he could bully her around like she was some second-year Hufflepuff.

But what could she ask for if she won? What would cut Draco to the quick? What could possible enrage and humiliate the boy who let every insult roll off his back like water? Her mind raced, but kept returning to the thought of herself kneeling before Draco, taking his stiff cock into her mouth.

_Think, Pansy. Think._

The solution was so simple and so obvious Pansy was almost ashamed it'd taken her so long to come to it. There was only one person who got under Draco's skin completely, whose very existence enraged and humiliated Draco. The boy who was a constant, living reminder of everything Draco wanted, but would never be: respected, admired, loved.

"Fine, Draco. You're on." Pansy flashed a charming smile. "And if Potter catches the snitch? You will have to be the polite little boy your mother raised you to be and congratulate him on his win. I know handshaking is considered the appropriate sportsmanlike gesture for such situations, but that seems so terribly formal to me. You two have known each other for years; it simply won't do." She paused and smiled, greatly enjoying the look of trepidation that had crossed Draco's face. "No, if Potter wins, you must congratulate him with a kiss – right there on the field, in front of the entire school. And not some half-arsed peck on the cheek either. You've got to kiss him like you're _happy _for him, like you're some silly first-year cow with a crush."

When Draco's jaw didn't appear to know whether to set hard in anger or to drop in shock, Pansy knew she'd picked the perfect consequence. He looked angry enough to blow smoke out his nose and breathe fire. She knew he'd rather die than congratulate Potter for anything, especially if that thing involved his own defeat.

She laughed gayly, as though she were having a lovely chat with an old friend come to visit for tea. "You can always pretend you're the Weaselette if it helps get you in the mood," she added.

"You're on, Parkinson," he all but growled. "But if I were you, I'd start researching throat numbing charms."

Pansy rolled her eyes. Potter was the better seeker, after all. She wasn't worried. Well, not much.


	2. Chapter 2

The air was unseasonably cool as the students waited for the match to start. Fall had come early this year, and with it brought a sharp, bitter wind to match Pansy's mood. She sat in the stands, her stomach knotted in anticipation. She was glad she hadn't been able to eat anything at breakfast that morning, she'd likely be sick if there was anything in her stomach to throw up. She felt wretched hoping that her own house would lose the match, but she'd rather that Slytherin lose the game than she lose to Malfoy.

She had thought of a number of ways to ensure that things went her way. She'd tried to sabotage Draco's new broom, but he kept his prized possession locked in his trunk, and she'd been unable to break the locking charm. She'd tried to brew a batch of Felix Felicis to slip to Potter, but had only succeeded in melting her cauldron and ruining her favorite pair of shoes. She'd even considered anonymously tipping Professor Snape off to the bet. While he would no doubt intervene and forbid it, there was a very likely chance that he would also feel compelled to inform her parents that the bet existed in the first place.

No, she'd rather suck off Draco Malfoy ten times than have _that _particular conversation with her parents. The fact she was even willing to _entertain_ the idea of performing oral sex on someone was enough to warrant strict punishment. She'd probably be disowned if they knew she'd bet on it. Pureblood girls were expected to remain innocent until marriage, or to at least give the impression that they were remaining innocent.

Without any better options, Pansy hid her wand beneath her robes and planned to hit Draco with a _confundus _charm if it looked as though he were getting close to the snitch. It wasn't her most devious and cunning plan ever, but it would work in a pinch.

The teams marched out onto the pitch and Pansy tightened her grip around her wand. She'd have to be sneaky, but what kind of a Slytherin would she be if she weren't? An ocean of green and silver rose around her in cheers as the names of the players were called. She remained in her seat, worried that the green of her scarf might match the color of her face.

The match began. Even though the majority of the play remained closer to the ground, Pansy kept her gaze high in the air, trailing Draco's lithe form as he zipped about the pitch in search of the snitch. Every few minutes a cheer or hiss would spread through the crowd around her, but she honestly didn't care what else was going on in the game. Nothing mattered but stopping Draco from winning.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed – thirty minutes, an hour, maybe even two – when she saw Potter make a sudden dive in her peripheral vision. Draco had seen the sharp turn as well and he was now racing in Potter's direction as they chased the same glittering gold ball.

Although she couldn't see it from the distance, Pansy assumed the snitch had changed direction and was now hurtling skywards, because both boys abruptly turned and shot back into the air like fireworks. Lifting her robes and pulling the concealed wand out from underneath, she held it to her side and trained her eyes on Draco. Just as the end of the incantation was falling from her lips, Potter darted around, blocking Pansy's view of Draco.

But the spell was already cast and Potter had been in her eyeline when she said the charm.

_Shit! _

She'd confounded the wrong person! If Draco noticed his rival's confusion he didn't show it, and three seconds later he held the tiny, fluttering snitch is the palm of his hand. Everyone around her erupted in cheers, but Pansy sunk lower in her seat.

Of all the rotten, horrible, no good, very bad things that could have happened to Pansy Parkinson, this was the worst. Not only had Draco Malfoy won the match _and_ the bet, she had inadvertently aided him. Her sloppy spell work had just guaranteed him two victories and a blow job. Just when her mood could get no worse, Pansy noticed a blur of green and white heading straight towards her. It was Draco, coming to brag. He slowed as he approached and hovered slightly above her. He grabbed her roughly by the crooks of her arms and tried to pull her from her seat.

"Draco! Stop! I'm going to fall!" she yelled as she tried to squirm from his grip.

"Well then you'd better climb on," he laughed, and began to steer his broom away from the stands.

Pansy didn't have to be told twice. As much as she hated the idea of sharing a broom with him, she didn't much fancy plummeting to her death either. Without anything remotely resembling grace, she swung her leg over the broom and wrapped her arms around Draco's waist. "I am going to kill you!" she hissed into his shoulder.

Draco flew them around the the pitch as the spectators below cheered and hissed. To anyone from the other houses, it probably looked like the "King of Slytherin" was taking his Queen out for a victory lap. How little they knew.

"What the bloody fuck do you think you're doing?" she yelled. "Take me back!"

"I just wanted to thank you," Draco hollered over his shoulder. "That confundus charm was rather helpful. But if you wanted to suck my cock that badly, you only needed to ask. No need to resort to self-sabotage."

"That confundus charm was meant for you and you know it!"

Draco glanced at Pansy over his shoulder and leaned into another turn. "Pity," he muttered.

"Why are you doing this anyway?" she demanded. "Did you really just drag me up here just to gloat?"

Draco laughed. "Well that, and because I know how scared of flying you are."

Pansy couldn't see his evil grin, but she suspected it was there. She dug her fingers into Draco's stomach hard enough to leave bruises. "I am **not **scared of flying, you prick. I get motion sickness, so unless you want me to sick up all over your quidditch kit, I suggest you put me down!"

Draco mumbled something in assent and flew them back to the stands. They hovered above Pansy's empty seat. Swinging awkwardly, she jumped down and landed with a grunt. "Couldn't have just put me on the ground, could you?"

Draco ignored her. He grinned and angled his broom forward, grabbing Pansy's hand and raising it to his lips. He kissed her knuckles. "Until later." He wiggled his eyebrows and flew off. Pansy wanted to vomit. She gave his back the two finger salute and slumped into her seat. What a prick.

Pansy felt like she was drowning in sea of silver and green as the students around her exited the stands, all chatting excitedly about the win. Under normal circumstances she'd be just as happy about the Slytherin victory, but now she found that she was repulsed by the enthusiasm of her housemates. It was just a stupid game, who cared? Didn't they know what this meant for her?

So lost in her own self-pity, Pansy almost didn't notice that there was at least one other Slytherin brooding over the results of the match. Daphne, Draco's latest fucktoy, didn't look best pleased by the win either. Pansy closed her eyes and sent a silent prayer to Salazar that this would work. She nudged the pouting blonde girl at her side and said, "You should tell him."

Dark, angry eyes turned to her. "Tell him what?"

"How you feel."

Daphne stiffened and turned away from her. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, please, Greenglass, spare me. I know you. We've been friends for a long time, or we _were _friends for a long time. I know how you operate. You don't chase, you allow yourself to get caught. You go with a bloke for a few weeks, just to prove that you can, and then you release him back into the wild. You don't actually care for any of them. But for some reason, Draco is different. It's written all over your face. You _actually _fancy him. You've been chasing that twisted git forever."

Daphne snorted. "And you haven't?"

"I most certainly have not!" Pansy scoffed in indignation at the very idea. "Malfoy and I practically _hate _each other, if you haven't noticed. But that's besides the point, because you're clearly smitten. I bet if you told him how much you hated this bet, he'd call it off immediately."

"And why would he do that?"

Salazar help her, Pansy was talking to an idiot. "Because you're his girlfriend, maybe?"

Daphne laughed. She stood, straightening her crumpled robes in a delicate manner. "Am I? I didn't realize. Here I was thinking I was just the flavor-of-the-month."

_Well, at least she's not delusional,_ Pansy thought wryly. "I'm sure you're more than that to him. I've known Draco a long time, since we were kids, and I've never seen him look at any other girl the way he looks at you," Pansy said. "And if these childish little games are going to hurt you, you should tell him. I'm sure he wouldn't want that. He cares about you, I can tell." It was a bald-faced lie, but it was all she had.

Daphne looked thoughtful, perhaps even a bit hopeful. She moved as if she was going to sit again, but then quickly stiffened and shot Pansy a hard, hateful glare.

"Nice try, Parkinson. I almost fell for it. What's your game then? Trying to convince me to run off and spill my guts to Draco, so that you two can have a good chuckle at my expense while you've got your mouth full of his dick?"

Pansy wanted to point out that she might have a difficult time chuckling if her mouth was full of dick, but she restrained herself and considered Daphne's accusation for a moment. Daphne revealing the depth of her feelings to Malfoy, only to receive a brisk brush-off would be quite satisfying and more than a little amusing. The prissy bitch deserved her comeuppance. But Pansy hadn't even considered that; she must _really_ be losing her touch.

If Daphne wasn't going to speak in her defense, Pansy had no reason to be nice to her anymore. "It was stupid of me to think you'd have that kind of influence," she said dismissively. "You're right though, you are just the flavor-of-the-month. I'll eat my hat if he hasn't chucked you by the end of the month."

Pansy left Daphne, who was obviously trying to bite back tears, and began a slow funeral march back the castle. She dragged her feet as she made her way towards to the dungeons. She stopped to examine a particular interesting tapestry and then to have a chat with the Bloody Baron, anything to buy herself a little more time. Everyone would probably be back in the common room by now and the victory celebration well underway. The team probably wouldn't want to cut into their gloating time by bothering to shower first, the nasty fucks. There was nothing to do but hold her head high and accept her defeat gracefully. She'd do what she must and try to retain as much of her dignity as she could while she did it.

Pansy rounded her shoulders and lifted her nose into the air in an attempt to appear confidant and in control. She whispered the password to the dungeons and stepped through the portrait hole. A hush came over the group of revelers as people began to notice who had just stepped into the common room. She scanned the crowd in search of Draco, but didn't see him. She frowned, hoping that git wasn't going to make her wait. She just wanted this over with.

A group of younger students who had gathered around the sitting area slowly parted to reveal Draco, lounging on the sofa languidly, a smug look of satisfaction written across his pointed face. Pansy rolled her eyes; it couldn't have been more dramatic if Draco had choreographed the big reveal himself. Hell, he probably did—the boy did have a flair for dramatics. Though she was a tad disappointed to note that he'd already changed out of his Quidditch kit. She had a thing for a man in uniform, even if that man might be Malfoy.

"Ah, Parkinson!" Draco greeted, as though he were seeing his best friend for the first time in ages. "So glad you could make it. Here to congratulate me?"

Pansy sighed, shrugging off her robes and throwing them over the back of a chair as she crossed the room. "If that's what you want to call it, Draco. Can we just get on with this?"

Draco arched an eyebrow. "Eager, are we? I'm surprised at you. No devious plans to try and weasel your way out of our deal? Sometimes I wonder if you were sorted into the right house. Unless, of course, you've secretly wanted me for years and this has been your plan all along."

"I'm upholding our bet," she said, raising her nose into the air. "Not because I want to, but because I am a lady of my word."

"A real lady wouldn't know half the words you use," Draco quipped.

Pansy dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand. Draco was the very definition of insufferable. "I swear to God, Malfoy, if you don't shut the hell up – "

"–You'll what? Blow me?" he interrupted with a smirk.

Something within Pansy snapped. There was no time to count backwards from ten, because she was lunging at him, fingernails first, ready to claw his eyes out if she could. But Draco was quick. He caught her by the wrists, yanked her sideways and pushed her onto the sofa. He held her arms above her head and straddled her waist, pinning her down.

Pansy was rendered practically immobile, but that didn't stop her from trying to struggle out of his grasp. She could feel the bottom of her skirt riding up to her waist as she bucked her hips against him, trying to throw him off of her. But instead of unseating him, he found better purchase by leaning into her, trapping her hips under his and pushing against them to hold her down. She decided to change tactics. If she could get her arms free she could punch him in the nose and push him off. She arched her back and tried to pull her arms down to her side, but his hold was too tight.

"Pansy," Draco said sternly, "stop it."

Pansy quit struggling and glared at him mutinously. "Fuck you," she spat.

A small smirk played at the corner of Draco's lips. He leaned down so that his mouth was just centimeters from Pansy's ear. "The can be arranged too, if you'd like," he purred.

The low lilt of his voice sent a wave of arousal through her. _Damn him!_

Draco thrust his hips. She could feel that he was already hard as he rub against her. She gasped in surprise at pleasurable sensation the small movement caused. He nibbled at the bottom of her ear, sucking the fleshy lobe into his mouth and teasing it with his tongue and teeth. Before Pansy could process what was happening and stop herself, she let out a breathy moan.

Draco leaned back, using the arms holding Pansy's hands captive to support the weight of his upper body and looked down at her. He canted his hips against her again, softer this time, and smiled wolfishly when Pansy let another small whimper escape. She forgot herself and arched against him in search of more friction. From somewhere above came the sound of a throat being cleared.

Theo was trying to get their attention as the entirety of Slytherin house stood behind them and watched. The eyes of the younger students were round and curious; a few of older students smirked, a couple blushed, and Daphne looked as though she were about to cry. Draco released his hold on her. They untangled themselves quickly and sat up.

"All right, show's over!" Draco barked. Pansy perked. Was he calling off the bet? "Anyone below fifth year, get the hell out!"

Pansy deflated as a chorus of mumbled protests came from the younger boys, grumbling that they were being exiled from their own common room right before all the good stuff happened.

"All right, Parkinson." Draco turned towards her and drawled."On your knees."

Pansy grunted in displeasure, but she sank to her knees and crawled between Draco's outstretched legs anyway. The tent in his trousers was the only indication that they had just had shared an awkwardly impassioned moment on the sofa.

Pansy never did anything half-arsed and if she was going to have to do this, she was going to do it right. It was unlikely that Draco would ever let her live this moment down, and the last thing she wanted was to spend the next two years hearing about how crap she was in bed. No, Pansy was going to give Draco the best damn blow job he'd ever had. Sex was power, after all, and if she could make him come undone completely, she may still walk away from this with the upperhand. She just had to ignore everyone else and focus on her task.

Pansy locked eyes with Draco and began to undo the top buttons of her blouse.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the sliver of flesh she'd just exposed.

She waited until his eyes found her's again before she answered, "I'm going to suck your cock, of course."

Draco's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "And you need to undo your shirt for that?"

"If you don't like it..." Pansy pouted and went to button her shirt back up.

"No!" Draco's hand shot out to stop her. "It-it's fine. Just hurry up"

Pansy smiled in assent, but had no actual intentions of speeding up her pace. Proper seduction took time and if she was going to have Draco begging and crying out her name, she'd have to wind him up a bit first.

Pansy shifted so that she was sitting on her heels and hooked her arms behind Draco's knees. She tugged slightly so that his arse slid forward on the sofa. He leaned back and closed his eyes. She began by placing gentle kisses on his thighs, working her way towards his crotch. She nuzzled the bulge in his trousers with her face and inhaled the musky, masculine scent. Her tongue laved around his hardness, leaving the strained fabric damp. She let out a low moan in appreciation (all for show, of course) and felt his cock twitch beneath her in response.

She continued her trail of kisses up his groin to his stomach, lifting his shirt so she could nibble at the skin right above the waistband of his trousers. When she looked up, she saw that Draco was staring down at her, his expression full of want and impatience.

"Get on with it, Parkinson," he said, but his words came out sounding more like a whine than a command.

She ignored him and continued to bite and lick the thin skin of his lower stomach. She traced her tongue over the trail of blonde hair that led from his belly button down and she cupped him through his trousers. He groaned and bucked his hips into her hand. She smiled against his belly and pulled back, fumbling for a moment with his button and zip with one hand as she continued to massage him through his clothes with the other.

Draco lifted his hips and Pansy pulled his trousers and pants down to his knees in one fluid motion. She sat back again and began to remove his shoes. "Is that really necessary?" he groaned in annoyance.

"Yes," Pansy chirped. "It will give me more room to work."

With his shoes off, she was able to remove his trousers and pants completely, tossing them on the floor next to her. She slid her hands back up Draco's naked thighs, settling herself between his splayed legs. She ran her fingers up the underside of his balls, tracing the seam of his sac, and saw his cock twitch again.

Pansy held her hand out in front of Draco's face, palm facing him. He eyed it suspiciously. "Lick," she told him.

Draco looked unconvinced, but did as he was instructed. He placed a broad, flat stroke from the base of her palm all the way to the tip of her fingers. She went to pull away, but he caught her by the wrist again. Without breaking eye contact, he slowly took each of Pansy's fingers into his mouth, one by one, wetting them with his saliva and dragging his teeth lightly along their length as he sucked them in and out. Pansy could feel herself growing warm but fought hard to keep any signs that she was affected by him from showing.

When her hand was appropriately slicked, she sank back to her position between Draco's knees and grasped him firmly. His cock was smooth and hard in her hand, dark and pink, long and thick, nestled in a tangle of light blonde curls that were only slightly darker than the hair on his head. If she didn't hate him so much, she'd have thought it was beautiful prick. She gave him a few gentle strokes, and marveled at how his cock grew and hardened even more under her touch. A pearly drop of precum welled in the slit. She rolled her thumb through it, spreading the sticky fluid around the spongy head, before she leaned in and licked it away completely.

Draco moaned. He thrust his hips up, trying to force his way into her mouth. Pansy pulled away and chuckled, clucking her tongue at his impatience. His head fell back again and he groaned in frustration.

Pansy didn't feel the need to tease him much longer. She parted her lips and licked the head of his cock, letting her tongue make languid circles around the dome. She used her hand to pull his cock up, exposing the underside, and followed the length of the vein to the root with her tongue. She worked her way back up slowly, and then stretched her lips over the top, taking just the head into her mouth. Mindful of her teeth, she massaged the head with her lips, pulling back just enough so that every gentle back and forth would feel like a new, shallow penetration to him. Above her, she heard Draco moan and she smirked around her mouthful. She teased the slit with her the tip of her tongue, and even let her teeth scrape ever so lightly against the sensitive underside as she pulled away.

Before Draco could whine again she flattened her tongue to the bottom of her mouth, wrapped her lips around her teeth, and swallowed half his length in one go. Draco's eyes shot open and he let out a startled grunt, a mixture of surprise and pleasure. Pansy wrapped one hand around the base and began to stroke him in time as her head bobbed. She could feel her cheeks hollowing out as she worked and kept her lips sealed tightly around the shaft, intent on using as much suction as possible to wring his orgasm from him. Her other hand snaked below and began to massage his balls, one at a time and then together.

Pansy picked up the speed and set a relentless pace as she swallowed more of him on every down stroke. Excess saliva began to drip down his cock and pool in the thick nestle of his pubic hair. Draco moaned again and thrust his hips up. He thread his fingers through her hair and attempted to push her head down, to force her to take him in deeper. Pansy stilled her movements and pushed back against his hands, tugging on his balls gently in reprimand. She caught his eyes and shot him a warning glare.

Draco loosened his grip on her hair, acquiescing complete control to her. She began to move again, slower but deeper, never taking her eyes off him. His own eyes were round and pleading, and she was sure she saw a hint of awe behind them. His breath was shallow, a desperate hiss coming from between clenched teeth. The muscles in his thighs and abdomen were tense, and his toes were curling, digging into the plush rug beneath her. Pansy felt a sense of power over him, even from her position between his legs.

She knew he was fighting off his orgasm, but she'd be damned if she let was going to let him choose when he was going to come. This was her game now. She leaned back and let him slip from her mouth completely, leaving a thin trail of saliva that stretched from the head of dick to her lips as she pulled away. He gave her a desperate, pleading look that asked why she had stopped.

She cleared her throat. His eyes widened. She smirked.

Pansy grabbed the base of Draco's cock firmly in one hand and rolled his balls around in the other. She held his gaze as she leaned forward and took him into her mouth as far as she could. The head of his cock bumped up against the back of her throat. He gasped and curled his fingers through her hair. Taking a large breath, Pansy pushed forward, searching for the correct angle. She found it and felt the head of Draco's cock as it pushed into the back of her throat. She pushed against him again, taking him deeper into until she was swallowing his entire length and her small nose was pressed up against his pelvis. His pubic hair tickled her face, but she ignored it. She couldn't breath like this, but she could swallow, and she let the muscles in the back of her throat work over the cockhead that was buried so deeply.

"Fuck!" Draco gasped. His hips began to move, but he caught himself quickly and stilled. Pansy smiled to herself; he was so easily trained. "Merlin's fucking beard..." he whimpered.

Pansy began to move again, pulling back slowly, just enough that she could take another breath, and then pushing back onto him. She could feel Draco trembling beneath her. It wasn't easy, and the strange sensation of having him push into her throat at such an awkward angle was less than comfortable, but Pansy soldiered on. She knew this was the best head she'd ever given, and miles beyond the sloppy, lazy sucks Draco had likely received.

Even in her discomfort, Pansy felt herself becoming more and more aroused. It couldn't be helped, she told herself. It was only natural to be turned on by sucking someone's cock; it didn't matter that it was Draco's. She wanted him to finish soon, so she could excuse herself to the privacy of her dorms to relieve the ache she felt growing between her legs.

Draco's breath came in shallow, erratic pants and Pansy knew he was near his end. She slipped two fingers behind his sac and began to gently message the thin strip of skin that stretched between his balls and anus. Draco's hips bucked again, so she pulled back just a little to avoid being gagged. She increased the pressure as she continued to rub his perineum, her fingers slowly inching back towards his arsehole while the other hand continued to knead his swollen sac and his cock moved between her lips.

She circled his hole lightly with her finger. It was a bold move, she knew, but experience taught her that some boys liked it. It paid off in the end, because just as she was about to breech him, Draco let out a startled cry that sounded suspiciously like "Pans!" His balls tightened in her hands and he thrust became jerkily. His come was bitter where it landed on the back of her tongue. She swallowed it down quickly.

Pansy sneaked a glance up to see Draco staring at her reverently, glassy eyed and spent. He went limp in his seat and she leaned back, letting his slowly deflating prick slide from her mouth with a gentle pop. She couldn't help but smirk as she stood and looked down at him.

"Satisfactory, I presume?" she asked. She had that coarse, froggy voice that so often accompanied an enthusiastic round of oral sex. It took Draco a minute to register that someone was talking to him. He stared up her blankly and nodded. "Very good then," she nodded and turned quickly on her heel.

Pansy ignored the wide, shocked eyes that followed her as she collected her robe and briskly made her way towards the girl's dormitory. She had been so fixated on bringing Draco off that she'd completely forgotten about their audience. She'd done a good job of remaining assertive and in control, and it wouldn't do if they all saw her reddened face as she left. She didn't know which would be worse: if they mistook it for an embarrassed blush, or correctly assumed that it was the result of her arousal.

When she was back in the room she shared with the other girls she quickly shut the door and cast a locking charm. She threw herself down on her bed and scrambled into position: on her back with her legs bent at the knees, feet firmly planted on the bed, and her legs spread wide. She didn't bother to take her knickers off, just yanked them to the side and began to rub her swollen clit.

She wasn't the least bit surprised by how wet she was or the ease with which she could slip two fingers inside herself. She'd been so turned on by watching Draco unravel that she'd had to fight the impulse to touch herself while she sucked him. She was surprised, however, that it only took about sixty seconds of furious rubbing before her toes curled and the familiar pulse of her orgasm overtook her.

But she wasn't at all sated. If anything, her orgasm only served to frustrate her more. After all that build-up, she just felt empty. Rolling over, she mashed her face into her pillow and let out a strangled cry. She didn't want to want Draco, but she did. She could imagine him buried to the hilt inside of her, filling her completely, and maybe even stretching her a little. Her fingers gave little satisfaction when she thought of the thick cock she could have instead.

It took every ounce of her self control not to run down to that common room, drag him back to her room, and fuck him into the mattress. But she couldn't do that; she _wouldn't_ do that. Her pride just wouldn't let her. She couldn't admit that she _actually _wanted him.

There was only one solution she could find, she'd have to make another bet with Malfoy. But until then, she hoped another quick round of frigging would do.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: This chapter is all smut and nothing but. **

**Chapter warnings: Verbal humiliation, spanking. **

**Please review!**

* * *

><p>Pansy's humourless expression at breakfast the next morning made it clear that anyone who dared to mention the previous night's exhibition would (barely) live to regret it. She knew that most people would be too scared of her retribution to mention it, but that didn't stop her from staring daggers at everyone who had been present the night before, just in case. The only person she really worried about taking the piss was Malfoy, but he seemed just as keen to avoid her as she was to avoid him.<p>

The rest of the week passed without incident. If people were talking about it, they weren't doing it in front of her.

Pansy's constant anxiety began to dissipate. She could almost pretend that it had never happened. The only time she thought of it was when she was struggling to tear her eyes away from Draco's ass as he bent to retrieve a fallen quill or when she was trying to imagine anything besides the way his long, elegant fingers would feel clutching her hips as she rode him. The only thing that reminded Pansy of Draco's attempt to humiliate her was the fact that she couldn't stop thinking about how badly she wanted to do it again.

Friday came again. Pansy found herself reclining on the sofa in the Slytherin common room, reading the newest issue of _Witch Weekly_ and sipping a tumbler of firewhiskey. None of her friends could be found and she relished the peace and solitude. She loved them, she really did, but sometimes it was hard to keep up with their constant drama. It was nice to have a night to herself. The harsh burn of the liquor was familiar and comforting, as was the drowsy numbness that the drink provided. The alcohol combined with the warmth of the crackling fire relaxed Pansy so much that her eyelids began to droop.

Pansy yawned and stretched. She took off her robes and transfigured them into a pillow. She wasn't going to sleep, she just wanted to rest her eyes for a moment and enjoy the feel of the fire warming her skin. She knew her empty bedroom would be so cold and lonely. Maybe just a quick kip, until her housemates returned to entertain her. Pansy snuggled down and within minutes she was snoring softly through her upturned nose.

_ Pansy was in the abandoned Potions classroom. It must have been after lessons because she was alone. No, she wasn't alone, she could feel someone else with her in the room. Should couldn't turn around to see, but she knew who it was. She didn't need to see his face to know it was Draco. It was always Draco. She could feel his magic radiating through the empty room in waves._

_ Draco came up behind her. He grabbed Pansy by the hips and pulled her back against him roughly. His chest was flush against her back and she could feel his erection grinding into her arse. One of his hands traveled down her pelvis and slid underneath the bottom of her skirt, slowly making its way towards her core. His hand slipped underneath the elastic of her knickers and parted her moistened folds. Expert fingers stroked the length of her pussy. He teased her entrance, penetrating shallowly. Pansy keened against his hand and whined, asking for more, but he did not oblige. He abandoned her wanting hole and focused his attention on her clit. He traced teasing circles around the pink button before bringing his fingertip down in a series of firm, rapid taps._

_ Pansy moaned loudly and pushed back against Draco, rubbing her arse against the thickness in his pants wantonly. _

_ "Please..." she begged._

_ Draco pulled his hand out from her knickers grasped both of her wrists tightly. He guided her towards the nearest table and placed her hands on top of it. He put one hand between her shoulder blades and pushed._

_ "Bend over," he commanded in an authoritative tone._

_ Pansy placed her forearms flat and bent at the waist. She rested her forehead on the table and took a deep, calming breathe. She arched her back and pushed her arse into the air as high as she could._

_ "Lift up your skirt."_

_ She obeyed and returned her arms to their resting place._

_ Pansy's breath hitched when she felt his hand run over the curve of her arse. He took his time exploring her pale, round globes before slipping between her legs and cupping her cunt in his hand. He rubbed her through her soaked knickers. She could hear the familiar sound of his zip being undone and shuddered at the thought of his hard, dark pink cock being pulled from his trousers and shoved inside her. She felt her knickers being pulled down roughly and let out of quiet whimper._

_ "Parkinson..." _

_ Draco took himself in hand and slipped his cock between the lips of Pansy's quim. He wasn't ready to enter her, he was in the mood to tease. The head of his cock bumped up against Pansy's clit. She let out a startled gasp and pushed her hips back against Draco. She needed this, she needed him. _

_ "Parkinson..." _

_ Pansy whined and thrust backwards again, rocking herself back and forth, forcing the swollen head of Draco's cock to rub against her distended clit. The sensation was overwhelming. She could cum just from this. She didn't want to though, she wanted to feel him stretch her cunt out first, she wanted to feel him pound into her, she wanted to—_

_ "_Parkinson!"

The sound of her own name shaped by a familiar voice pulled her back to consciousness. Pansy bolted upright and knocked heads with an amused looking Draco Malfoy. He was crouched next to the sofa, studying the flushed girl below him with bemusement.

"Malfoy," Pansy groaned unhappily, realizing she that had been dreaming. She then blushed, realizing just what and _who_ she'd been dreaming about. "What time is it?"

"A little after one. You've been asleep for a couple hours."

"You were watching me sleep?" Pansy's nose wrinkled in disgust. "Pervert."

Draco laughed seductively and placed his hand on Pansy's upper thigh, drawing small circles on her skin.

"You're one to talk. You were making all sorts of delicious little sounds as you slept. Tell me, what were you dreaming about?"

Pansy pushed Draco's hand away and sat up completely, bringing her feet to the floor. She straightened her skirt in a modest attempt to cover herself.

"I—I don't remember."

"Bullshit," Draco said with a laugh. He ran his hand up Pansy's thigh again and was pleased to note that not only did she not push him away, her legs parted slightly. He leaned closer and dropped his voice.

"Were you dreaming of me, Parkinson? Were you dreaming about how much you liked sucking my cock? Or were you imagining what it would feel like if I fucked you? You had your fingers in your knickers, did you know that? You were touching yourself and moaning while you slept. Were you dreaming those were my fingers instead? That it was my cock?"

The comforting warmth of the fire was now stifling hot. Pansy had forgotten how to breathe.

"N-no," She lied.

Draco gave a purring laugh and nuzzled his face in the crook of her neck. He kissed, nibbled, and sucked on the tender flesh, smiling into her skin when his ministrations were rewarded with a whimper.

"It's okay if you were. I've been dreaming of you too. Every night I dream about you. Sometimes you're squirming beneath me in my bed. Sometimes I've got you bent over a desk in the library. Sometimes I'm taking you against the wall in the showers or in front of everyone in the Great Hall. But every night its you."

Draco slid his hand upwards and began to stroke her through her knickers.

Pansy moaned. This was wrong,_ so _wrong. She couldn't give in to him, she wouldn't.

"Draco—please. Stop it," she pleaded, her chest heaving.

Draco slipped a single finger beneath the elastic.

"If you don't want it, stop me."

Pansy let out a frustrated cry. She didn't want it, she didn't. She was going to stop him, any moment now. She really was. Just a couple more seconds first. Just let this last a couple more seconds before she had to push him away. He was being so terribly cruel, teasing her like this, touching her and whispering such naughty things in her ear. She didn't want it, but she'd die if he stopped.

"I don't—I don't want to want it."

Draco smiled into her neck. "But you do though, don't you? You want it, Pansy."

Pansy bit her lip to stifle a moan as she felt his finger brush against her clit for the first time.

"Answer me, Parkinson. Tell me you want it."

"I—I want it," she whined. "Please, Draco. I want it. I want you. Just stop teasing."

Draco sat back and pulled his hand away. Pansy cried at the loss and looked at him in confusion.

He chuckled and moved to sit next to her on the sofa.

"Bend over my lap."

Pansy stared at him in horror and didn't move.

"I said, bend over my lap," he repeated firmly.

"But..." Pansy protested in a small voice. She may have just admitting to wanting it, but this was not the "it" she had in mind.

"I came in here to find you asleep on the couch, your hands shoved into your knickers, frigging yourself like a naughty little slut. I am going to punish you appropriately, so you know what happens to wicked little girls like you. You'll think better about putting what belongs to me on display for everyone to see."

Pansy narrowed her eyes, her true self breaking through the lust.

"You didn't mind putting me on display last week, Malfoy. And I _do not_ belong to you. I never will."

Draco grabbed her roughly and pulled her down and across his lap. Pansy struggled, but Draco smiled to see she was struggling to bring her legs back on the sofa and find a comfortable position.

He flipped her skirt up and scraped his fingernails across the soft flesh of her plump arse.

"You do though, Pansy. You belong to me. At least for tonight."

Pansy shivered but didn't respond. For once she had no comeback or clever retort. She knew he was right. If she wanted him, she'd have to do it on his terms. She was too far gone to walk away, but he could end this game at any moment. She'd have to submit.

Draco played with the edges of her knickers for a moment before bunching the fabric in his hand and and pulling, forcing the thin strip of material that covered Pansy's crotch to pull tightly and slip between her lips. He jerked the fabric in his hands, causing the silky fabric to rub against her clit. She let out a throaty moan.

Pansy felt exposed, humiliated, and incredibly aroused.

Draco ghosted his hands across the smooth expanse of her arse as he held her knickers taut, the pressure on her clit unrelenting. He pinched, prodded, and massaged her bottom, exploring every curve, memorizing each freckle.

"Hold these, don't let them slack," he instructed.

Unable to hold her upper body up if she was going to reach behind and grab at her knickers, Pansy let her head drop and she let out a muffled sob of frustration.

With both hands now free, Draco pulled her cheeks apart and trailed his fingers down the length of her crack, stopping to trace her furrowed arsehole and then continuing down to her cunt. She pushed back on his hand as he teased her entrance, trying to impale herself on his fingers.

Draco pulled his hand away with a tsk.

"Eager little slut, aren't we, Parkinson?"

Pansy could only whine in response.

"But I didn't tell you to move, did I? I didn't tell you you could fuck yourself on my fingers. You're going to have to be punished for that."

Pansy bit her lip. There was only one thing that could mean in this situations.

Draco brought his hand down in a firm, hard smack across Pansy's right cheek. She let out a loud cry, partly in shock, partly in pain, and partly in appreciation. Draco grabbed a fistful of her short, dark hair and pulled her head back roughly.

"Do no cry out. Do you want someone to hear you? Do you want someone to come in here and find you like this? Bent across my knees with your arse in the air and your pussy dripping?"

Pansy swallowed a moan. His words were almost as erotic as his actions.

"I bet you would like that, though, wouldn't you? You like showing off for everyone to see. You liked sucking my cock as everyone watch. It got you off, didn't it? I bet you went back to your room and shoved your fingers in your greedy little pussy afterward, didn't you?"

When Pansy didn't respond he pulled her hair again.

"I asked you a question, Parkinson. Answer me."

"Y-yes. Yes, I did. I went back to my room and I touched myself. I made myself cum three times before I could stop."

Draco's lips curled into a malicious smirk.

Without further ado, Draco released his grip on Pansy's hair and began to deliver blow after blow to her quickly reddening arse. He would strike three times in rapid succession and then stop to run his hand over the inflamed skin as if attempting to soothe the pain. Then he would raise his hand again.

There was no rhyme or reason to spankings. Pansy was unable to anticipate when the next would come. She pressed her face into the sofa cushion, trying to muffle her cries of pain and pleasure. Her hands remained behind her back, pulling at her knickers so that every blow forced her clit to rub against the taut fabric. It was torture. It was ecstasy. She didn't know how long it had been, she didn't know how much longer she could last. With every spank she came closer and closer to losing control, to falling over the abyss. She needed to come so desperately it was painful. Without realizing it, she had begun to buck her hips in search of more friction.

Draco could see her unraveling and smiled triumphantly. If he were cruel he would stop, refusing her orgasm as punishment for the wanton way she was rubbing herself against him. But he wanted to see this.

"Do you want to come?" He asked matter-of-factly.

"Yes!" Pansy sobbed into the cushion.

Draco slid his fingers into Pansy's drenched cunt with ease. She moaned, desperately pushing back against him. Finally, some fucking penetration! He slid his fingers in and out slowly, scissoring them inside her. Draco was amazed by the amount of arousal that coated his fingers and dripped down her thighs every time he pulled out of her. He slipped his other hand down, pushing aside the knickers that were still bunched between her lips, and rubbed her clit in small, soft circles. She gasped.

"Come for me."

Pansy dropped the knickers and dug her nails into the sofa cushion for balance as she felt her orgasm take hold of her. Draco moaned for the first time that evening as he felt the walls of her pussy squeeze around his fingers gently. His hands were flooded in her juice. Pansy went stiff for a second, her back arched and ass high in the air, before she collapsed completely.

Draco waited for her breathing to return to a normal, steady pace before he slipped his soaking fingers from her. He used his clean hand to turn her over, her body obeying as though it were boneless. He held his hand before her face.

"Lick," he commanded.

With a suspicious look in her eyes, Pansy opened her mouth and took Draco's fingers into her mouth. She hummed happily as she licked her sweet and salty cum from each one, remembering the thick weight of Draco's dick in her mouth the week before. She wouldn't mind doing that again.

When she had finished cleaning him he wiped the excess spit on his hands off on her face and moved to stand up.

"Don't you want to fuck me?" Pansy pouted and nodded towards the obvious erection tenting his trousers.

He did, he really did. He wanted to push her back down on the sofa and slam into her. He wanted to pump inside her mercilessly until he exploded and filled her with his cum. He wanted to lap it out of her until his prick was hard again and then repeat the performance. He wanted to spend the rest of the night fucking her senseless, he wanted to break the damn sofa with the force of his thrusts, but he wasn't going to. He was so hard, so tender, so aroused, that he knew he would only last about thirty seconds inside her wet heat.

He couldn't embarrass himself like that.

"I'll take care of it myself," he mumbled as he stood. "Goodnight, Parkinson."

Draco dashed from the room to do just that.

Pansy stared at his receding back dumbly, trying to analyze everything that had just happened. She'd awoken from a racy dream about Malfoy to find him hovering over her. She'd submitted to a brutal spanking that left her arse red and raw. He'd given her one of the best orgasms of her life and then ran from the room as though being chased by a pack of hippogriffs.

Pansy sighed as she stood and straightened herself. Her arse was sore, each time the fabric of her skirt brushed the skin she winced. Thank Merlin she wouldn't have to sit through classes in the morning. She transfigured the pillow back into her robes and made her way to her dorm, her mind still puzzling at the events of the evening.

As she slid into her bed, a horrible though struck her. This was Draco's payback. This was his repayment for her taking control of the blow job she'd given him the week before. He was proving to the both of them that he was the dominant one. That's why he hadn't wanted to fuck her. He hadn't wanted to fuck her at all, he had just wanted to embarrass her. Anger and dread battled over which would be her dominant emotion as she lay awake and stared at the ceiling. By this time tomorrow everyone in their house, maybe even everyone in the school, would know that Pansy Parkinson had thrown herself across Draco Malfoy's lap and begged him to spank her like a bad little girl. She would be a laughing stock. Her reputation was ruined. She couldn't decide who she was more angry at, Malfoy, for being an utter bastard, or herself, for falling for his tricks. She groaned into her pillow and swore revenge.

She awoke the next morning to find a strange jar on her nightstand. She picked it up and read the label. It was a soothing salve. Pansy snorted derisively as she chucked the offending jar into the rubbish bin, like she'd fall for that.

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><p><strong>Additional Author's Note: I know I said at the end of the last chapter that their next bet was going to involve Hermione, <em>and it will<em>, but I wanted to "even the score" before that. So this is just a short, smutty chapter. More bets, games, and miscommunication to come!**

**Let me know what you think. Please review! **


	4. Chapter 4

Draco stared at his kippers in disgust. He'd been at breakfast for nearly an hour, pushing the food around on his plate distractedly and keeping one eye on the entrance to the Great Hall. The meal would be over soon and Pansy had yet to come up from the dungeons. He was anxious to see her, even if he wasn't sure what he wanted to say. He wanted to apologize for running out of the common room so quickly, for not offering any explanation for his behavior. He wanted to ask her how she was feeling about the crazy situation they'd gotten themselves into, to ask if she regretted what they'd done. He wanted to tell her that he didn't. And a small, conflicted part of him wanted to ask if she'd fancy getting a butterbeer with him at the Three Broomsticks during the next Hogsmeade weekend.

When Pansy finally emerged, Draco's breath hitched. Still a bit rumpled from sleep, she looked a far cry from her usual effortless sophistication. Her normally sleek black bob was messy, faint black shadows haunted her tired blue eyes, and a scowl that would have put Professor Snape to shame cut across her face. Even in this sloppy and surly state, Draco couldn't believe how beautiful she looked. She walked towards the Slytherin table slowly, her movements slightly stilted by the dull pain of her recently abused arse.

Blood rushed to Draco's cock as he watched her walk and realized the stiffness to her movements was his doing. He watched the careful way she climbed into her usual seat next to Tracey a few spots down from him. When he saw the slight grimace on her face as she gingerly lowered her arse to the bench, images of the night before flashed in his mind: Pansy's pale arse spread out before him, bright red hand prints marring the otherwise flawless flesh, his fingers disappearing inside her dripping cunt. He adjusted the growing erection in his trousers, hoping no one would notice how painfully aroused he was at nine in the morning.

"You look like shit," Tracey observed.

"Feel like it too, don't I?" Pansy mumbled, reaching for a slice of toast.

Pansy sneaked a quick glance at Draco out of the corner of her eye. When she saw him staring back at her, a hesitant smile curling at the corners of his lips, she shot him a nasty glare and turned back to Tracey.

Draco was dumbfounded. What was that for? Yes, it had been rude of him to rush out on her the night before, but she couldn't seriously be _that_ upset. He'd gotten her off less than eight hours ago and now she was sending him death glares! Draco turned his attention back to his plate, what little appetite he'd had before now completely gone. He stabbed at his eggs angrily for a few moments before pushing his plate away. He climbed out of his seat and stalked towards the end of the hall, ready to return to the sanctuary of the dungeons to brood. He would never understand women.

He was halfway down the stairs when he heard his name being called. He whipped around so quickly, he almost lost his balance.

"What?" he snapped.

Pansy had watched him storm out of the Great Hall. It took her a moment to decide whether to follow him or now, but in the end her curiosity won out.

"What was that all about then?" she demanded. "You stomped out of the Great Hall like someone kicked your house elf."

"What do you care?" He asked, his back already turned, making his way down the stairs.

"I don't! I just don't see why you're acting like such a prig!" Pansy followed him.

Draco ignored her and continued his brisk decent. When they reached the bottom of the stairs Pansy grabbed his arms and turned him to face her.

"Look at me when I'm talking to you!" she snapped. "Merlin's tits, you are so fucking rude!"

"Rude? You want to talk about rude with me, Pans? What was with that look you sent me? If I didn't know better, I'd think you were out for my blood."

Pansy gave a throaty laugh, "Don't be so sure that I'm not."

Draco just stared at her in confusion, genuinely unsure as to why they were suddenly at each other's throats. He didn't know how to respond.

"Why are you walking as though you're in so much pain? Didn't you get the salve I left you?" He asked before he had time to stop.

Pansy laughed again, although there was no humor in her voice, "Like I'd trust that piss."

"What? Why not? I stole it from Snape's office this morning! If anyone can make a good salve, its Snape."

"I don't doubt that, but what did you do to it before you left it for me? What would have happened if I had actually been thick enough to use it?"

Draco was deeply offended by her implication. He had risked the ire of his mentor to get her that salve and she thought he had cursed it! Why would she even think that?

"I didn't do a damned thing to it, Parkinson!" he yelled. "I was...I was just trying to be nice," he added, sounding a bit more sheepish than he'd intended.

Pansy wasn't fooled, "A Malfoy, trying to be nice? Draco Malfoy, trying to be nice _to me_, at that? It'll be a cold day in muggle hell before I believe that."

"What are you talking about! I'm nice to you all the time!" Draco wailed in frustration. The incredulous look on her face sobered him. "Well, I _used_ to be nice to you all the time. Why can't you believe that I'm trying to be nice now?"

"Because things change," Pansy snapped. "You've changed and I've changed and we're not best friends anymore. We haven't been for quite some time, in case you haven't noticed. A bottle of salve isn't going to change that, not after what you did to me last night."

Draco's anger flared again. "What I _did _to you? Pansy! I fucking got you off!"

Pansy hissed for him to lower his voice and glanced around to make sure there was no one in earshot, the last thing she wanted was the rest of the school to know.

Draco lowered his voice, "I know _for a fact_ that you enjoyed what I 'did_'_ to you."

Pansy crossed her arms over her chest and held her head high. Even with the disheveled state of her appearance, she was haughty and imposing.

"You only did it to humiliate me! You only did it so that you could make me beg and then reject me. It was terribly cruel, even for you."

"What are you talking about? I didn't reject you! I made you come Pansy, you came all over my bleeding hand!" Draco was about ten seconds from seeing red. This woman was impossible.

"Yes, but you didn't fuck me when I asked, did you?" Pansy screamed, stamping her foot, her own admonishment to be quiet forgotten. "You made me want you and then you wouldn't even fuck me! You just wanted to embarrass me, to make me beg for you. Did you have a nice laugh about it with the blokes yet? Did you tell them all about how you worked Pansy Parkinson up and then denied her? How many people already know that you rejected me?"

Pansy's comments struck Draco dumb. She _was_ mad that he had run out the night before, she thought everything was just a cruel joke on his part. He wanted to tell her how wrong she was, how badly he had wanted to fuck her, but he couldn't do that without admitting that just the sight of her squirming around on his hand had pushed him nearly to the edge. He wanted to slam her against the wall and _show_ her just how much he had wanted to fuck her, but before he could will his body to respond, Pansy spoke again.

"I don't know what your game is, Malfoy, but I'm done playing it. Do not touch me, do not speak to me, do not even look at me ever again."

The tone of her voice made Draco shiver, half in fear and half in arousal. He knew she was deadly serious, but there was something about the way she puffed out her chest and narrowed her eyes when she was angry that made his dick twitch. She was imperious and he liked it, but as a Malfoy he was genetically incapable of letting someone else have the last word.

He took a step forward, closing the gap between them. Pansy held her ground, her jaw set.

"Fine, Parkinson, I won't. But I'm sure in wont be long until you're _begging_ me to touch you again. I look forward to rejecting you again."

Pansy snorted and turned on her heel. She slammed down the corridor back to the dungeons, casting jinxes at every underclassmen she saw.

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><p>Over the course of the next few weeks, the hostility between Pansy and Draco reached new extremes. Even students from the other houses began to notice the tension between the two. For their part, their friends pretended not to notice the change. The other sixth-year Slytherins shot each other knowing looks and speculated in private on the reason for their unseasonably cold behavior, but they knew better than to confront the warring duo. No one knew what happened between them that night in the common room, and neither Pansy nor Draco were keen on people finding out.<p>

One cold Thursday morning in Potions, Pansy swished her hips a little too wide as she walked and knocked Draco's recently bottled potion to the floor with a loud crash. That night at dinner Draco accidentally stuck his foot out as Pansy was leaving the Great Hall, causing her to tumble in front of the entire school. He woke up the next morning to find himself covered in ugly, red pustules that took Madame Pomfrey four hours to cure. At lunch that afternoon a Canary Cream found its way onto the plate of biscuits Pansy was absently eating as she gossiped with Millie.

Their personal feud was quickly escalating. After weeks of carefully avoiding each other, two days of childish pranks had already sent one of them to the hospital wing. As they prepared for bed Friday evening, Pansy and Draco both made sure to cast a number of wards around their beds.

Neither slept well that night. Draco dreamed that he had challenged Pansy to a Wizard's Duel. But the ropes that shot from the end of his wand didn't just tie her up, they tied her to a large four poster bed that hadn't previously been in the room. When he awoke in the morning, he was covered in a cold sweat and a sticky white fluid. Pansy dreamed that she was walking through Diagon Alley, carrying a large bag full of shopping, when a blur of black and blonde ran past, snatching the bag from her arm. She gave chase through the cobbled streets and down into Knockturn Alley. Suddenly she was grabbed from behind and thrown roughly against the brick wall. She opened her mouth to scream, but Draco claimed her lips before she could. Pansy awoke with her right hand inside her wet knickers.

The weekend brought a welcomed rise in temperature. On Saturday afternoon, Millie suggested the girls go on a stroll around the grounds to enjoy as much of the warm air as possible. Pansy, being in an uncharacteristically magnanimous mood, even invited Daphne to join them. The girls walked around the grounds, chatting happily and relishing the warm sun on their skin. When the neared the quidditch pitch, they noticed Blaise and Theo lounging under a tree, watching the Gryffindor team practice. Tracey bounded towards the boys, throwing herself into Theo's lap while the other girls followed at a more reasonable pace.

"There's no way!"

"But they have to have had! They've been together for years! If she wasn't giving it up, he'd have chucked her by now!

Pansy could hear the boys arguing as she approached. She sank to the ground at Blaise's side, Millie and Daphne following suit.

"Who's chucking whom?" she asked, situating herself into the present conversation.

"Weasel and the mudblood," a familiar drawl answered from the other side of Blaise.

The blood in Pansy's veins turned cold. She leaned forward to glance around Blaise, Theo, and Tracey and saw Draco, leaning back against the tree with his legs sprawled out in front of him. Her view of him had been blocked by the tree before and she cursed silently under her breath. If she knew he was with them, she wouldn't have come over. He inclined his head in the direction of the quidditch pitch. Pansy followed his gaze and noticed a Granger-shaped blob sitting alone in the stands, dutifully watching her housemates practice.

"Theo here seems to think that even after all these years of shooting each other googly eyes over their parchment, they still haven't shagged," Blaise explained. "But I know for a fact that no bloke in his right mind would put up with such an insufferable bint if she wasn't spreading it for him regularly."

"Well, we all know the Weasel isn't in his right mind me, is he?" Theo countered.

"There is still no way they're shagging. I'd bet five galleons that Granger wears a sodding chastity belt." Daphne added with a disdainful snort. "She's probably one of those girls who wants to wait for marriage."

Pansy rolled her eyes,"You guys are idiots. Of course they're not shagging, they're not even dating each other. Weasley's with that Lavender tart."

Six pairs of eyes turned to her.

"And how do you know that?" Blaise demanded.

"I know everything," Pansy smiled mysteriously. When no one responded, she gave a huff. "Honestly, don't you lot pay any attention to school gossip?"

"When did they break up?" Tracey asked.

"They were never together. They've been tiptoeing around it for years. Either he's too thick or she's too uptight, who can tell? But now he's with Lavender and, my god, _they_ shag like rabbits. Caught him with his hand up her skirt in the sodding corridor on one of my rounds last week. Tried to scrougify my eyes, but to no avail. The mental image still haunts me." Pansy shuddered dramatically. "So I guess its safe to assume that he got tired of waiting for her to drop the-little-miss-prim-perfect-and-prude act."

"Maybe she's not a prude, maybe she's just gay," Millie offered hopefully.

"Keep dreaming, Bulstrode," Draco teased.

"Well, how would you know?" Millie snapped back, yanking a fist of grass from the ground and staring at it angrily.

"Granger's many things, but she's not a lesbian."

"She might be," Pansy shrugged. "I mean, all her friends are blokes, she never talks about liking boys, she doesn't wear make-up or even comb her hair."

"She's not," Draco responded definitively. "Trust me."

"Trust you, mate? You got something you'd like to share with the class?" Blaise asked with a quirked eyebrow.

Draco face contorted with disgust. "Nothing like that! What a repulsive thing to imply, Zabini! I just know she's not a lesbian because I've caught her checking me out a few times."

Pansy burst into a fit of giggles before she could stop herself. Everyone turned to stare.

"Oh Merlin, Malfoy. I don't know if its arrogance or pure delusion, but you're absolutely mad if you think _Granger_ was checking _you _out."

"Why wouldn't she? I'm fit!" Draco protested.

Pansy couldn't argue on that point. She may have wanted to hex him within an inch of his life, but even she had to admit he was an extremely attractive bloke.

"You're a total prat, that's why! You constantly bully her and her friends. You call her mudblood—_to her face_—for Salazar's sake! She would never be interested in the likes of you. She despises you!"

"There's a thin line between lust and hate," Draco purred in a low tone that sent shivers down Pansy's spine. "If anyone knows that, it should be you."

She shot him an angry glare that he matched with equal vehemence. They stared each other down in silent challenge.

"I could have any girl in this school I wanted, including the mudblood," his voice was dangerously low.

"So its delusion then?"

"Any girl, Parkinson. And I could make her _beg_ for it."

The comment was lost on everyone but her, but it still took every ounce of self-control Pansy had within her to keep herself from slapping him hard across his smug face.

"Care to wager on that, Malfoy?"

Their friends exchanged nervous glances.

"Draco..." Theo interjected timidly. "Let's just drop this, yeah?"

Draco ignored him and kept his attention focused on Pansy.

"What are the terms?"

Pansy's eyes flashed. "You have one week, starting today, to seduce and bed Hermione Granger. You've got to go all the way, Malfoy. And I want proof."

"Easy," He boasted. "What do I get if I win?"

"What do you want?" Pansy asked in mocked coyness.

"One week where you have to do everything I say," Draco responded without missing a beat. "For one week you will be, for all intents and purposes, my personal slave who will have to obey my every whim."

"Within reason," Pansy added.

Draco looked put out.

"Well, I'm not going to throw myself off the astronomy tower just because you say so. Nor will I use an Unforgivable."

Draco smiled to note that she hadn't said anything about sexual demands being beyond reason.

"I will agree to this," Pansy continued, "provided the same terms apply when you lose. I wouldn't mind having a personal servant for a week. And a Malfoy at that! Imagine what your father will say when he finds out his heir is being forced to do house elf work."

"He won't find out," Draco said lazily, leaning back against the tree and crossing his hands behind his head, "because I wont lose."

Pansy rolled her eyes. Draco's arrogance was going to be his downfall one day. And if everything went according to plan, that day was exactly one week from now. She wouldn't even need magic to rig this bet in her favor, she could guarantee his failure with nothing but her words.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: They're both quite thick, aren't they?<strong>

**Please Review! **


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N: Sorry for the wait for this chapter! I'm alternating back and forth between this and my Dramione fic "Wicked Games," but I took a little time out to write a Pansy/Hermione one-shot (sorry, no femslash-I know, I know, there must be something wrong with me!) called "The Potions Lesson." Feel free to check it out. Wink wink.**

**Chapter warning: Because of the nature of the bet between Draco and Pansy, this chapter gets a little...Dramione-ish. But I promise, this is a Dransy story through and through. Sometimes it just takes outside forces to put things in motion. **

**And as always, please review!**

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><p>Draco knew he had no time to waste. He had exactly one week to seduce a girl who couldn't look at him without having bile rise in her throat. Fortunately, he wouldn't have to get her to like him in order to bed her. He didn't plan to appeal to her on a romantic or emotional level, but a purely physical one. He didn't think that would be a problem, as far as he was concerned there were very few heterosexual women between the ages of 13 and 60 who <em>didn't<em> want him. He was even convinced that old McGonagall flirted with him on occasion. After a few days of the old Malfoy charm, he could get just about any woman on her back and panting—and many blokes too.

The morning after the bet was made, Draco waited for Hermione in the corridor that led to the Great Hall. When he saw her approaching with Potty and the Weasel in tow, he pulled his wand from his pocket. Concealing the slender piece of wood in the folds of his robes, he silently cast a tripping jinx. Hermione immediately went flying. She let out a strangled cry as she lost her balance, trying to brace herself for impact. She landed face-down, limbs sprawled out at ugly angles. The books she was carrying were strewn about the floor in disarray.

Before Harry and Ron even had time to react to her sudden fall, Draco was there, crouching over her. He lightly gripped Hermione by the shoulders, rolling her over and helping her sit up. He gave her a moment to gain her bearings.

"Are you all right, Granger?" he asked, his features schooled into the very picture of concern. "That was a nasty tumble, are you hurt?"

Draco wished he had a camera on him so he could capture the looks of shock on Potter and Weasley's faces. They stood there staring, eyes wide and mouths gaping, looking as though they'd beed stupefied.

"I-I'm okay," Hermione mumbled, suddenly nervous. She felt small and childish under the weight of Draco's gaze.

"Let me look," Draco commanded softly, grabbing Hermione's wrists and raising them before she could protest. He ran his long fingers over each of her palms, examining for cuts and bruises. He took longer than necessary, drawing small circles into her hands with the tips of his fingers. He pretended not to notice her shudder, unsure if it came from pleasure or repulsion at the sensation. When he was satisfied that her hands were unharmed, he dropped his gaze to the other area that usually bore the brunt of a nasty fall. "You've scraped your knee," he said matter-of-factly.

Hermione blushed and moved to pull her skirt down and cover her legs. "It's fine, just a few cuts, it's nothing. I'm fine, really."

"Granger," Draco intoned sternly. "Let me."

Without waiting for a response, Draco slipped his hand around the top of Hermione's right calf and pulled her leg towards him. He leaned forward so that his face was level with her knee, pursed his lips, and began to blow lightly on the scrape. He stroked the thin skin on the back of her knee lightly as he blew and raised his eyes to look up at her through his lashes. When their eyes met, he heard Hermione's breath catch.

Without breaking their eye contact, Draco pulled his wand from his robes and placed against cut. His lips moved slightly as he silently cast a healing spell. Hermione held her breath as she felt pulses of warmth radiate from his wand and spread across he knee. But they sensation didn't stop there, the waves continued up the length of her leg towards her center, before settling in the lower part of her belly. She wasn't sure if the aching feeling of need was Draco's magic or her response to it. When the small cuts had healed completely, Draco pulled his wand away and placed a gentle, chaste kiss on the girl's knee. He stood, holding his hands out in offer of assistance.

Hesitantly, Hermione reached up and took Draco's hands. She allowed him to help her to her feet, blushing profusely all the while. Ron, who had simply watched the entire interaction with his mouth open in shock, was suddenly at her side. He his arm around Hermione's waist and pulled her towards him defensively.

"I'll take it from here, mate," he said with his jaw square. He wasn't sure what Malfoy was up to, but he knew it was something.

Draco knew better than to pick a fight with Hermione's friends, as much as it was his natural instinct to do so. He ignored the ginger prat and returned his full intention to Granger.

He shot her a crooked smile, the one he hoped would falsely betray just the smallest amount of embarrassment. He knew it was the kind of sheepish smile that could make weaker women swoon. Hermione mumbled a quiet thanks, unable to tear her eyes away from the soft quirk of Draco's lips.

"Just be careful next time," he said with a wink before turning around and walking towards the Great Hall for breakfast.

He didn't need to turn around know the scene he left behind him. There would be two boys, caught between their feelings of surprise and anger and one blushing girl, shifting uncomfortably and pressing her legs together in confused desire.

"Today will will begin our unit on multiple-user charms. Have you ever been in a situation where you wanted to communicate with a friend, but were unable to do so for fear of the people around you overhearing?" Professor Flitwick asked in his squeaky voice. His eyes shone with the covert knowledge that nearly every student in his classroom would be keen to master today's charm. "The charm we are going to learn today will allow you to do just that. It opens a telepathic channel between two willing participants, through which they will be able to share their conscious thoughts."

Hermione raised her hand, "It is like legilimency, sir?"

"No," Flitwick answered. "Legilimency allows the caster full access to the mind of another, unless that person is skilled in occulmency, of course. This charm only reveals what is willingly projected by the other person. You cannot hear everything the other person thinks, only what they want you to. Both subjects must cast the charm, thereby giving their consent to allow the other access to their mind. The channel can remain open for extended periods of time and across great distances, but can be closed at anytime if one person simply says the counter-charm."

A quiet murmer broke out amongst the class, each student imagining ways this charm could prove quite useful. Some of their ideas were more wholesome than others.

Flitwick rapped his wand on his lectern as though it were a gavel. "Quiet, please. I know this if a very exciting spell, so we will waste no time in learning it. I would like two volunteers, please."

None of the students were surprised when Hermione's hand shoot up, but many were taken aback to see Draco's hand slowly raise into the air.

"Miss Granger, Mister Malfoy," Flitwick nodded at them. "Please, come the front of the class and face each other."

Everyone watched with great interest as Hermione and Draco rose and made their way to the front of the room. Draco caught Pansy's eye and winked, letting her know this was all a part of his game. He turned to steal a glance at Ron, who was simmering with anger, his face as red as his hair. Getting under the Weasel's skin was going to be just as much fun as getting into Granger's knickers.

"Now," Flitwick began. "You must both cast the spell at the same time and focus solely on the other person. Eye contact is key at this stage. The incantation is _mentem nectunt_ and then the name of the person with whome you are attempting to form a telepathic link." Flitwick demonstrated the correct casting motion, placing the tip of his wand to his temple and then bringing it down and forward with an elegant swoop of his arm. "Your wand must point directly at the other person as you say their name, or the spell will not work. Care to try?"

Hermione looked nervously at Draco for a moment, before she schooled her features and gave him a determined nod. He nodded back and raised his wand to his head. They each waited three counts before swooping their arms down and raising their wants to point at each other.

"_Mentem Nectunt Malfoy_."

_"Mentem Nectunt Granger."_

Silver strands of light poured from the ends of each of their wands and cut winding paths through the air. Draco held his breath, but didn't drop his gaze, as he felt the energy from Hermione's spell wrap itself around him and sliver up his body. He felt a faint tickling sensation as the silver stream crept into his ear. And then...nothing. Had it worked? He turned and looked at Flitwick expectantly.

"Now, we must test and see if the spell has been cast properly." Flitwick levitated two pieces of parchment from his lectern to the two students. "Mister Malfoy, please read what is written there. Then, repeat the words in your mind, but focus your energy on projecting your thoughts. Say the words in your mind as if you were saying them to Miss Granger. And Miss Granger, try to clear your mind of other concerns, make room for Mister Malfoy's words."

Draco looked down and read the paper, _An apple a day keeps the Healers away. _He looked up and gave the professor an incredulous look. Flitwick only smiled, nodding his head in encouragement. Draco sighed and turned back to face Hermione.

_Granger? Granger can you hear me? _He thought, staring directly into her light-brown eyes. He smiled when he them open wide in surprise, no doubt hearing his words in her head. What Flitwick had told him to say was utter rubbish, so he decided to test the spell with something a little more his style. _Granger, has anyone ever told you what a lovely bum you've got?_

Hermione flushed a deep shade of scarlet, indicating the spell was working just fine and she could hear everything Draco was saying to her.

_I'm going to guess based on that charming shade of red your face just turned, no one has. Well, you do. It's quite fetching. I have trouble keeping my eyes off—_

"Miss Granger?" Professor Flitwick unknowingly interrupted. "Can you hear Mister Malfoy? What did he say?"

"I...um...I-I'm not sure," Hermione stammered.

"Try again, Mister Malfoy. Concentrate, please."

_Oh, fine. I'm supposed to say "An apple a day keeps the Healers away." But I'd much rather think about your arse. It's round and postively delicious. I wonder what it would feel like in my hands. I wonder how it would look if I bent—"_

_ "_An apple a day keeps the Healers away!" Hermione shouted a little too loud.

"Splendid!" Flitwick clapped. "And you, Miss Granger, read your parchment and project your thoughts into Mister Malfoy's mind."

Hermione looked down and read.

_Do not tickle sleeping dragons._

Draco gave a pout. _Oh come on Granger, you can do better than that? Where are your manners? Aren't you going to compliment me on my arse?_

_ I've never look at your arse. Stop being a prick, Malfoy._

_ Oh, so you're more interested in my prick than my arse? Duly noted._

"Mister Malfoy?" Flitwick asked, a bit more impatient this time.

"Do not tickle sleeping dragons," Draco answered, not bothering to conceal the bored tone in his voice.

"Excellent! As you can see class, Miss Granger and Mister Malfoy have successfully opened a telepathic channel to each other. The longer the channel is open, the easier communication will become. Eye contact is necessary at first, but once your minds have settled into the link, it no longer will be. You two will stay partners for the remainder of the session, everyone else, team up! "

Flitwick dismissed the two with a nod as the remaining students began to pair up as Draco and Hermione settled back into their seats. Flitwick began to demonstrate the proper incantation once again, making sure each of his pupils understood what was necessary. Draco caught Hermione's eye across the aisle.

_So, Granger, can I ask you a question?_

_ No. _Hermione turned her back to him, hoping their connection wasn't yet strong enough for him to continue pestering her. Unfortunately for her, it was.

_ You don't have to answer if you don't want to._

_Will you stop harassing me?_

_ Maybe._

_ Malfoy..._

_ Oh, come on Granger, have a little fun! No one can hear us. No one has to know._

_ There is nothing for anyone to know._

_ Of course there is. What do you think Potter and Weasel would think if they knew I fancied you?_

Hermione turned around quickly and stared at Draco, wide-eyed and blinking. _You __**what?**_

_You heard me, I fancy you._

_ Malfoy, I don't know what you're playing at, and I don't really care. Please, just leave me alone until we actually need to talk for the lesson. _

Draco did his best impression of a wounded puppy and turned away as if he were actually hurt by her refusal. _I'm not playing at anything._ He hoped his words sounded defeated inside her head._ I __**do**__ fancy you. _

A moment of silence passed. He could feel her staring at his hunched frame, but he didn't look up at her.

_Why? _She asked simply.

_ Why what?_

_ Why do you fancy me? __**If **__you actually do. And why are you telling me this? Why now?_

Draco sneaked a glance at her, hoping she would see it and think he was too embarrassed to look at her properly.

_Because you're smart. And you don't take shit from anyone, not even me. I respect that, Granger. And, like I said, you've got a lovely arse and beautiful brown eyes. And I'm telling you this now, because, I don't know. Because when else will I get the chance? You're always with Potter or one of the Weasleys. They'd probably my hex my bits off if I ever even tried to talk to you. _

_ They'd have good reason._

Draco ignored that, even if it was the truth. He wasn't interested in truth at the moment, only his own lies. _Maybe I'm a coward, but telling you now—like this—saves a bit of my pride. At least this way no one will know that you've rejected me. _

Hermione didn't respond immediately. Draco chanced another quick peak and saw her staring openly at him. She looked deep in though, but there was a wry smile playing at her lips.

_ I haven't rejected you, you know._

That made Draco sit up and stare at her. Was she really going to make it this easy? The girl must be even more desperate for male attention that he'd though.

_Do you...do you fancy me? _He gave her a shy, hopeful smile.

_No. _

Draco frowned. This bint was confusing. _I don't understand._

_ I don't fancy you, Malfoy. You've been awful to me for years. I don't know why you think I would. But, of course, I pride myself on being open-minded. If you really do fancy me as much as you say you do, I'd be willing to let you try and change my mind about you. Prove to me you're not the obnoxious git I've come to know and loathe._

Hermione could barely believe what she was doing, but the ability to express herself without actually _saying_ the words emboldened her. She had to admit, he was rather good looking. And it wouldn't hurt to let him chase her, even if she had no intention of being caught.

_ You...you want me to court you?_

_ Court sounds so formal, so...pureblood. Why not woo? You could at least make an attempt._

_ Granger, are you serious? Please don't joke about this. Because I will. I will do whatever it takes to prove to you that I'm not the prat you think I am. I don't know why, I can't explain it, but I like you. There's just something..._ Draco trailed off, knowing that girls loved to be told there was something totally indescribable, yet totally irresistible, about them. Everyone wanted to believe they had that _je ne sais pas. _

Draco could barely contain his excitement. He didn't bother trying to either, knowing Hermione would think it had something to do with her. It was only the first day of the bet and he already had Granger entertaining the idea of them together. At this rate, he wouldn't even need the entire week. He felt himself harden just thinking about all the ways he would make Pansy submit to him after he won the bet.

Hermione sent Draco a playful wink._ Now, shut up. We're missing the lesson._

For the rest of the lesson, Draco and Hermione's conversations stayed on topic. They practiced the exercises Flitwick gave as means to strengthen their control over the link. Class ended and they were taught how to close the link. Before they said the counter spell, Hermione pushed her thoughts into Draco's mind once more.

_So, I'll be seeing you around then?_

_ If you'd like to, then yes. _

_ Good,_ Hermione gave a sly smile, _ I'll keep my eyes open._

Draco watched with a grin as Hermione swept out of the room, a noticeable swish in her hips that he knew was just for him. He had to give it to her, she was rather saucy—a quality he couldn't help but admire in a girl. This might to be more fun that he'd originally expected.

_You've got to admit it, Pans._ Tracey said telepathically as the two girls collected their belongings and left the room. They hadn't closed their link when the other students had, this skill would make gossiping so much easier. _Malfoy's pretty good. Did you catch the flirty smiles he and Granger were sharing? It's only the first day._

_ I saw. But I'm really not concerned. _

_ Perhaps you should be. Draco can be very persuasive. Trust me, I know. _

_ Honestly Davis, do you have no faith in me? I've got a plan, a fool-proof one this time._

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Methinks that this particular charm will come in handy in the future, don't you?<strong>

**Please read and review!**


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes: **

**Chapter warning: Slight, light Draco/Hermione. But fear not faithful Dransy shippers, that shit gets busted!**

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><p>Draco made remarkable gains in the next few days. In only 72 hours, he had convinced the golden girl of Gryffindor that he wasn't the despicable piece of pond scum she'd previously written him off as. He treated her as he would treat any other girl he was trying to bed, lavishing her with flattery and attention. The collective necks of three of the school's houses snapped to attention as they walked through the halls together, Draco chivalrously levitating Hermione's books as well as his own. While students from the other houses exchanged whispers and pointed looks, Slytherins merely stood aside and smirked, knowing full and well the deception behind Draco's actions. The bet between Malfoy and Parkinson was so dangerous and the stakes so high that the news had even drifted down to the lower years.<p>

For her part, Hermione flourished under the idea that her friendship with Draco was causing such a scandal. Once she allowed herself to stop thinking of him as that insufferable git and as an actual person, she found that she rather liked him as a person and as a boy. He was clever, quick-witted and intelligent—not to mention handsome, tall and well-muscled. After years of sharing a space with boys who often forgot to shower after quidditch practice, it was nice to be around a bloke who turned personal grooming into an art. Hermione even found herself spending a few extra minutes in the bathroom each morning, preening for the first time in her life.

There was one student at Hogwarts who neither exchanged sly grins or stared with wide-eyes at the pair. Pansy Parkinson watched Draco's success with growing ire and bitterness. She still doubted he would be able to actually get into Granger's knickers, but the fact he was making any gains was enough to drive her to distraction. It bothered her in a way she wasn't unable to name and felt no need to.

Wednesday night was Pansy's breaking point. She went to the library to work on an essay for Professor Flitwick and saw the pair sitting at a table near the back of the library. Books were strewn haphazardly on the table as if they were having an intense study session, but the information contained in their pages was completely ignored. Draco and Hermione were sitting close, talking in hushed tones. Pansy lowered herself into a seat a few tables behind them, trying her damnedest to pay them no attention. She pulled out her parchment and tried to focus, but the sporadic bursts of laughter that came from the other table cut through her concentration and inflamed her anger.

Pansy ground her teeth as she tried to close her ears to the sounds of Granger's inane giggles, but light laughter pushed through and demanded an audience. She hadn't realized how hard she was gripping her quill when it snapped in half.

Another round of giggles assaulted her,"Oh, Draco! Stop it, you're wicked!" The way Granger said his name, rolling it around her mouth, stretching out the "oh" and with an undeserved familiarity was more than Pansy could bear. She threw her broken quill to the table and stood with a flourish. Rounding their table, she braced her fists against the hard wood and leaned in, glaring at the unlikely pair. They stared back at her. Hermione blinked in confusion and Draco grinned knowingly.

"If you don't mind," Pansy spat in a low voice, trying not to notice the way that Granger's hand was affectionately resting on top of Draco's, "some of us come to the library to study, not to flirt. If you can't stop yourself from giggling incessantly like a first-year Hufflepuff, I'd kindly ask you to _get. the. fuck. out_. There are countless alcoves and abandoned classrooms that will no doubt serve your purposes better than the library." Pansy smiled as she saw a deep red blush crawl across Granger's face. She knew it was bad form, but she couldn't stop herself from turning her attentions to Draco. "Oh and Malfoy, how's Daphne?"

The smug look slipped from Draco's face immediately. When he didn't answer, Pansy pretended as though his silence resulted from confusion.

"You know, Daphne, your _girlfriend." _Even though Pansy spoke to Draco, her eyes were trained on Hermione, watching for the other girl's reaction. She wanted to see the embarrassment, shame, and anger on her face. She wanted to know that she had caused it.

"She's not my girlfriend," Draco growled lowly as he stood and learned towards Pansy. "You of all people, should know that."

Pansy ignored his implication and pushed on. "Oh really? But does _she_ know that?"

Hermione's presence was completely forgotten as Draco and Pansy stared each other down, daring the other one to look away first, to break eye contact and admit defeat. Draco's jaw twinged and Pansy's nostrils flared. Hermione's gaze shifted between the two, studying the faces that were contorted in anger. She wasn't quite sure what was happening, but she knew it was something she didn't want to witness. Hermione shifted in her seat and cleared her throat. She felt herself shrink in intimidation as two steely glares fell to settle on her.

"I-I think I should be going," she squeaked, lowering her eyes from the two spiteful Slytherins above her. She stood and scrambled to collect her things from the mess on the table.

"Grang..er...Hermione, wait." Draco couldn't let Pansy's interruption distract him from his goal, which was likely Pansy's intention after all. "Let me walk you back to Gryffindor Tower." He ignored the sounds of disgust that came from Parkinson's direction.

"No, that's ok," Hermione declined with a nervous smile that didn't reach her eyes, which were still warily glancing between Draco and Pansy. "I'll be fine. I'll just, um, see you in Potions tomorrow?"

Draco nodded and watched as Hermione scampered away, clearly desperate to be anywhere but in his presence. He growled as he thought of all the careful work Pansy had undone in a matter of minutes. He whirled around and stared at her in disbelief.

"What the fuck was that all about?" He demanded.

"You're disgusting," Pansy grit out between clenched teeth. "You _actually_ fancy her. Do I really need to remind you that she's a muggleborn, Draco, _and_ a Gryffindor. I can't decide which is worse."

"You think I actually fancy her? Pansy, I am deeply offended by your accusations," Draco said in mock offense. But then he stilled and his eyes went wide, realization dawning on his face. "You're jealous! You're jealous of Granger. You think I fancy her and its making you jealous!"

"What?" Pansy practically jumped backwards, startled as she was by his completely baseless claims. "Am not!"

Draco's laugh was soft and full."Yes you are! Do you...do you fancy me, Parkinson?" He waggled his eyebrows. He couldn't help but tease, it was second nature to him.

Pansy's eyes narrowed to dangerous slits. "Fuck. you. Malfoy."

Draco quickly walked around the table, Pansy turned so that she continued to face him. He stepped closer and she took a step back, the back of her thighs hitting the table. Draco leaned in close and dropped his voice so low that the words practically oozed from his lips. "Admit it, Pansy. You fancy me. I think that you want me."

Pansy braced herself against the table and looked up into Draco's face. She knew he was challenging her, daring her to say the words she couldn't, the words she wouldn't, say. She felt overwhelmed by his presence, she could feel the heat radiating between their bodies. Her gaze fell to his lips, full and slightly parted as though they were made for kissing. It was just an observation, of course, not something she'd actually want to do. She tilted her head upwards. She pulse beat loudly in her ears as she held her breath and waited. After a moment that felt like an eternity, Draco began his descent, intent on capturing her lips with his. He hesitated, his mouth hovering just millimetres above hers, waiting for a sign of nonverbal permission.

Pansy found her resolve, bringing the palms of his hands against Draco's flat chest and pushed with all her strength, "Never!" Draco was caught off guard and stumbled a few steps before he caught his footing. His glare was mutinous, simmering with quiet rage. If Pansy hadn't felt so smug about being the one to reject the other, she would have cowered under that look. Instead, she put all her remaining energy into a sneer. "I **don't **want you Malfoy," she hoped her voice didn't break, "and I never will."

Pansy pushed passed Draco and quickly fled the library. She wasn't running from him, she was just making sure she got the last word. She didn't run from people, especially not from Malfoy. When she had put good deal of distance between herself and the library she leaned back against the cold, stone corridor wall to catch her breath. The pounding of her heart and shaky knees were the result of her quick departure, she assured herself—not the fact that Draco Malfoy had almost kissed her and certainly not the fact that she had wanted him to.

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><p>Pansy's interference didn't appear to disrupt Draco's seduction of Hermione. She noticed with considerable ire that the Gryffindor stole a number of covert glances at Draco during breakfast the next morning. On the way into Potions that afternoon, Pansy saw him slip her a note that turned the girl a solid shade of tomato red for ten minutes. When Pansy caught the other girl blatantly staring at Draco's chest as he lifted his heavy cauldron back onto the shelf at the end of the period, she knew it was time to properly intervene. There was a bet on, after all, and Pansy didn't plan on losing this time. Even if Draco had developed perverse feelings for the Gryffinbore bint, he could woo her on his own time.<p>

That evening, Pansy stole into the owlery and attached a small note to the leg of one of the school owls. She stroked the bird's head as she fed it a treat from her pocket. "Deliver this to Hermione Granger with tomorrow's morning post."

Hermione arrived at breakfast the next morning with a spring in her step and dopey grin plastered on her face. Her recent association with Malfoy disturbed her friends, but anytime they questioned it they received a harsh upbraiding about stereotyping and forgiveness. So when a large owl swooped down and landed before her, holding its leg out to reveal a letter sealed with the Slytherin crest, Hermione grabbed it quickly and did nothing to hide her wide smile. She ripped open the note and read quickly.

_Dear Granger, _

_ I apologize for my behavior the other night, it was incredibly rude of me. But there is something about Draco that you should know. Meet me in the corridor that leads to the astronomy tower today after lunch. Do not tell anyone about this meeting. _

_ P. Parkinson_

Hermione read the note twice, worrying her bottom lip in thought. She turned her head towards the Slytherin table and searched for Parkinson. The black-haired girl caught her eye and raised her eyebrows in question. Hermione wasn't sure what to expect and she knew she didn't trust Pansy, but her curiosity won out in the end. Hermione nodded, confirming that she would be there.

Morning classes passed quickly and Hermione finished lunch quickly, stealing away from her friends with a lame excuse about a forgotten book. When she reached the meeting spot, she pulled her wand from her pocket and hid it within the folds of her robes. She didn't think Pansy had lured her here just to hex her, but you could never be too safe. She shifted on her feet uneasily as she waited for the other girl to arrive.

The sound of heels clicking on the empty corridor floor alerted Hermione to Pansy's approach. Hermione squared her shoulders in an attempt to prepare herself for what could be a rather nasty encounter. But before she could even register Pansy's presence, she felt herself being roughly grabbed by the arm and shoved into an alcove, hidden behind an ancient tapestry.

"Merlin!" Hermione whined, rubbing her arm where Pansy had man-handled her. "That hurt!"

"Sorry, Granger," Pansy said without an ounce of remorse in her voice, "I just didn't want anyone to see us."

"Look," Hermione began, putting her hands up, "if you're here to tell me about Daphne Greengrass, I already know. Draco explained everything, she's _not_ his girlfriend."

Pansy fought to push down the feeling of disgust that came from hearing Granger use Draco's first name as though she'd been his childhood best friend and Pansy hadn't. "No, of course she's not. Draco doesn't_ do_ girlfriends, Daphne's just his most recent," she said, completely ignoring the fact that _she_ was actually Draco's most recent. "No, I'm hear to warn you. Draco's intentions aren't honorable, his motives aren't sincere."

Hermione looked at the girl doubtfully.

"Draco has a bet going with Blaise Zabini. Blaise bet him ten galleons that he wouldn't be able to...well, you know..." Pansy drifted off in false modesty.

"Be able to what?"

Oh, to hell with modesty. "To fuck you Granger! To get in your knickers!"

Several emotions passed over Hermione's face in quick succession as Pansy stood and watched with impatience. Shock was replaced with outrage,which melted into doubt.

"How do I know you're not making this up?" Hermione asked, looking at Pansy sideways. "You seem awfully possessive of Draco. How do I know you're not just saying this because you're jealous?"

Pansy crossed her arms, why was everyone accusing her of being jealous? She wasn't bloody jealous.

"I am not bloody jealous!"

Hermione turned to face the taller girl directly and mirrored her stance. "Well, then why are you telling me this? Why do you even care if Draco is using me?"

Pansy had assumed this line of questioning would arise and had prepared her answer. "Because, its a shitty thing to do to a girl. And even though we're not friends, even if I don't like you, I think its wrong." When Hermione's incredulous stare didn't soften, Pansy continued. "We've got to stick together, you know. As girls. For...feminism...and stuff." Perhaps that was a bit much.

"Oh please Parkinson, you don't honestly expect me to believe this has anything to do with feminism, do you?"

Pansy glowered, "Okay, fine, Granger. You got me. Blaise offered me a cut if I could sabotage it," she sighed and offered a fake admission. "But Draco can't know or he'll cry foul and wont cough up the money." Pansy couldn't help but smile at her quick thinking. Not only was it a successful save, it also explained why she had practically assaulted the other girl in the library.

Hermione looked heartbroken and Pansy couldn't help but feel the smallest amount of pity for her. The miserable look on the Gryffindor's face was partly her doing, after all. Pansy grimaced when she saw the tears begin to well in Hermione's eyes.

"Look, I'm sorry," she mumbled, "but you're better off. Draco's a real prat. Better you know now, you know, not later." Pansy gave Hermione's shoulders a few stiff pats.

Hermione gave a sad laugh at Pansy's awkward attempt at comfort. She turned her face towards the ceiling and blinked, willing the tears to melt back into her eyes instead of rolling down her face. "You're right, thank you for telling me," Hermione nodded, "even if it was only so you could make a profit."

"Never said I was known for my altruism," Pansy shrugged. "And remember, Draco _can't_ know I told you."

"Why does it matter to me if you don't get your galleons?" Hermione's self-pity was being quickly replaced by self-righteousness. "Draco deserves a piece of my mind."

"Oh, Granger, you darling naïve child," Pansy chided condescendingly. "You really don't know Draco at all, do you? He won't care if you tell him off, he wont even care if you tell the whole school. You think he's not going to tell everyone about the bet after he's gotten into your knickers? Look," Pansy reached out and grabbed Hermione by the arms, leaning forward and staring into her eyes to emphasize the importance of what she was about to say, "you're playing with snakes now, you've got to play by our rules."

Hermione's eyebrows knit together in confusion. "I don't understand..."

"Draco thinks he can seduce you," Pansy explained quickly. "Draco thinks he can have anyone he wants. So, just don't let him. Reject him. Tell him to get bent. Don't let him know you know it was all a joke, make him believe that you're genuinely uninterested. He wont tell anyone about the bet if he has failed at it, it will hurt his pride."

"But, but, that's no justice!" Hermione stammered angrily. "He deserves punishment for this! And Zabini too!"

"Granger..." Pansy said with great frustration, Merlin this bint was annoying. "Bruising Draco's pride is most definitely a punishment. It's the worst thing you can do to him. Way worse than a week of detention or whatever the school will come up with."

"What he deserves is a good arse kicking," Hermione glowered.

Pansy smiled and let go of the shorter girl, "That's the Gryffindor way to handle things, but trust me when I say, the Slytherin way will be much more effective against Malfoy. It's not about physical violence, but psychological warfare."

Hermione chewed her bottom lip.

"Trust me, Granger. I won't let him forget his failure. He'll be punished properly," Pansy smiled, bearing her teeth, "by me."

"All right, Parkinson," Hermione nodded after a moment of thought. "I will take your advice."

The two girls stood and stared at each other uncomfortably for a moment, unsure of what to do now that they had formed an uneasy alliance.

"Well, I should...I should get going. You know, class and stuff," Hermione said lamely. Pansy nodded her assent. "And, um, well...thanks." Hermione turned and slipped out from behind the tapestry.

Pansy waited, giving Hermione a minute head-start so no one would see them leaving together. Thank Merlin that was over. Not only was Malfoy going to lose their bet and be forced to submit to her for an entire week, but the girl they'd used as a pawn had actually _thanked_ her for it. She ran her hands through her short, black hair and laughed. Sometimes, it was good to be her.

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Te gusta? Read and review, s'il vous plait! <strong>


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Note: Sorry about the wait for this chapter. I've been having some financial problems which have been distracting. And I didn't want to write the-chapter-we've-all-been-waiting-for while I was in a bummer mood. So without further ado...**

**Oh, also I guess, chapter warning for rimming. Some people get squicked by that I guess.**

**Please Review!**

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><p>Pansy knew better than to gloat. Although she was confident that Draco would lose the bet now that she had spoken to Granger, she couldn't risk him figuring out that she had interfered. She was pleasantly surprised to see how well Granger played her part. The other girl didn't immediately tell Draco to pitch himself off the astronomy tower, but merely became less and less receptive to his advances. She didn't return his smiles in the hallway, she didn't linger to speak to him after class. On Saturday afternoon, Pansy was pleased to note that Granger left the almost library immediately after Draco entered, ignoring him completely. Pansy couldn't help but smile when Hermione shot her a wink on her way out. In less than 48 hours, Pansy Parkinson would have Draco Malfoy completely under her thumb.<p>

When Draco returned to Slytherin Dungeons that evening, a dark purple bruise was visible against the pale skin of his jawline. Pansy quirked her eyebrows as he passed her and stormed towards the boys' dormitories.

"Another gift from Granger, I assume?" Pansy called after him, not bothering to hide the mean-spirited glee in her voice.

Pansy awoke on Sunday in one of the best moods of her young life. At breakfast she watched with delight as Hermione incendio'd a letter she'd received with the morning owl post before turning to glare at Draco. He slumped in his seat and began to pout as though he were a child who had just had his toy broom taken away. Pansy caught his eye and blew him a kiss. She was feeling rather cheeky. She spent the rest of the afternoon in her dorm, writing a list of the things she would make Draco during his week as her servant. It was a long list full of tedious tasks and loathsome chores.

Pansy returned to the dungeons after dinner that night and decided to wait for Draco in the common room. Knowing him, he was out trying one last ditch effort to woo Granger. She wished she could see what would win out at the final hour, Draco's pride or his desperation. She'd give anything to watch as he begged Hermione for her affection only to be cruelly dismissed. Draco would have to return eventually and admit his defeat. Pansy wanted to be here to rub it in.

The common room was busy with students enjoying their last free night before the beginning of the week or hurriedly trying to completely neglected coursework. Tracey was settled in her favorite seat, Theo's lap, and chatting with Daphne, who sat across from them on the large leather sofa. With a spring in her step, Pansy crossed the room and snatched the bottle of Firewhiskey straight from Daphne's hand. Pansy took a large gulp directly from the bottle, waggling her eyebrows at Daphne's surprised cry. She wiped her lips and threw herself onto the sofa with an unladylike plop.

"Looks like someone's in a good mood," Tracey said with a grin. "You're not usually so...animated."

"It's Sunday," Pansy pointed out. "You know what that means."

Tracey let out a loud groan, "When are you and Draco going to quit with these stupid bets?"

"When Draco stops being a prat," Pansy said with a shrug, before adding, "so...never."

Theo gave Tracey's knee a reassuring pat and leaned into her ear, "I've got a feeling this will be the last. Either they'll finally figure it out, or they'll kill each other. Either way, we wont have to deal with it anymore."

"Deal with what?" Pansy asked, leaning forward to try and catch Theo's quiet words. She hated secrets (unless they were her's), and couldn't stand to be left out of a conversation. "What are you talking about? Figure what out?"

"That you're both mad about each other!" Daphne said acidly, snatching the bottle back from Pansy and refilling her glass. "Honestly, I don't know how you either of you were ever made prefects, you're both thick as mud, and with personalities to match."

Pansy opened her mouth to lay into the other girl when the portrait hole swung open with a loud bang and a sullen looking Draco Malfoy slunk through.

"Malfoy," Pansy called out across the room, forgetting entirely about Daphne, "do you have anything for me? A scandalous letter or a pair of dirty knickers, perhaps?" She smirked.

"You know I don't," Draco responded bitterly as he sunk into an empty armchair. Daphne poured him a glass of firewhiskey and levitated it across the table to him. He plucked it from the air and gave her a nod of thanks. "So, what is it Parkinson? What kind of evils do you have in store for me."

Pansy smiled and leaned back. She studied Draco, knowing the silence would unnerve him. After a few long moments, she began "We're going to use the _Mentem Nectunt_ charm, so that no matter where you are, I will be able to summon you. You will do whatever I ask swiftly and without argument. And, you will be unable complete the tasks I give you using magic. Unless I say otherwise, you will do everything the muggle way." She knew that nothing would break Draco's pride like having to perform menial tasks like a common muggle.

Draco groaned and stood. "You're an evil witch," he said as he pulled his wand from his pocket.

Pansy stood and took out her own wand. "So I've been told."

They locked eyes and cast the charm. Silver strands spilled from the end of their wands. Pansy shivered as Draco's magic snaked its way up and around her body. She found the feel of the spell settling over her to be oddly erotic, completely unlike the way it had felt when she had practiced it in class with Tracey.

Pansy pushed the thought from her mind and focused on Draco.

_Can you hear me, Malfoy?_

_ Yes._ Even in her head it sounded like a grumble.

_Good. Since I have no use for you tonight, you will go to bed. _

_ What? Its hardly even 8 o'clock! _

_ You will do what I say swiftly and without argument, Malfoy._ Pansy reminded him. Draco crossed his arms and pouted. _You will go to bed now, I don't much feel like seeing you this evening. But in the morning, you will wait for me in the common room. Do not go to breakfast without me. _

_ Fine._

_ You know Malfoy, I don't like your attitude. I don't think that you're showing me the proper respect. From now on you will agree to all my demands with a simple "yes ma'am."_

Draco gave a dramatic sign. _Yes ma'am._

Pansy smiled and opened her mouth to speak aloud, "Good night, darling."

Draco gave a half-hearted wave to the the others before turning to Pansy. "Good night, _ma'am_," he sneered. His words may have to be polite, but she said nothing about his tone. He disappeared into the boys' dormitories. Pansy settled into the couch to enjoy her firewhiskey and a visit with her friends, content in the knowledge that in the morning, she would begin to make Draco Malfoy's life hell.

The next three days passed without major incident. Each morning Draco waited for Pansy in the common room and they went to breakfast together. Although the food was only a reach away, she insisted that Draco serve her at each meal, piling her plate high with the appropriate sundries and never allowing her juice or water goblets run dry. He was forced to do all her coursework in addition to his own. Pansy would read both assignments, the one he wrote for himself and the one he wrote for her. If she thought that one would receive a superior mark, it would be turned in under her name.

It seemed that an hour couldn't pass without Draco hearing Pansy's voice inside his head, demanding that he fetch her this or clean up that. If she felt that Draco had hesitated too long before fulfilling a command or failed to show her the proper respect, she would give him a harsh pinch on the arm or a swift kick to the shin. They weren't intended to actually hurt, Draco realized gratefully, just to remind him of his place and her expectations. The worst was when she twisted his ear during Potions because he failed to grind her salamander tail into a fine enough paste. Pansy's demands were annoying and degrading, but not unbearable. Mostly he just came when she beckoned, did what he was told, and waited for her curt nod of dismissal. He didn't want to give her the satisfaction of a response.

It wasn't until Thursday evening that Pansy broke with this pattern. Professor Sprout had been ill that day, so instead of their usual Herbology lesson, the students were forced to spend their afternoon weeding the large garden that she used to grow the school's supply of plants and herbs. Pansy's body, which was unaccustomed to such manual labor, was still aching hours later. The scalding hot shower she took after dinner washed away the dirt, but it did little to loosen her tense muscles. Feeling sore and annoyed, she summoned Draco.

Draco groaned when he heard Pansy's voice in his head, demanding he come to the sixth-year girls' dormitory immediately. He was almost finished with all of their assignments for tomorrow and had really hoped that he would get at least an hour to himself tonight. Since he'd become Pansy's personal servant he rarely had time to do anything for himself besides piss and wank. He put his quill down and trudged dutifully towards the girl's dorms.

"What took you so long?" Pansy demanded as soon as Draco walked through the door. They both knew it hadn't been long at all. She was reclining on her bed, flipping idly through a copy of_ Witch Weekly. _She didn't bother to look up from it as she spoke.

"I was finishing _your_ Transfiguration homework," Draco responded sharply. He glanced around and saw that Pansy was alone in the dorm. "What do you want?" He added the appropriate "ma'am" as an afterthought.

Pansy closed her magazine and tossed it to the floor. "My back hurts," she pouted.

"Go to Madame Pomfrey, then. I'm not a healer." Draco couldn't believe she'd bothered him about this.

"Actually, there is something you can do." Pansy began as she rolled onto her stomach. "You can give me a massage."

Draco took a step forward and then hesitated. Was she on the level, or was this some sort of trick? He could scarcely believe she would actually asking him to touch her considering what had happened between them recently. She'd seemed eager to keep a distance between them all week.

"You don't really have a choice here, Malfoy," Pansy said impatiently.

The thought of Pansy's soft flesh under his hands sent all the blood in his body coursing to his dick, leaving next to none for his brain. Draco felt like he was having an out-of-body experience as he crossed the room and climbed carefully onto the bed. He'd given a number of massages before—but always with an ulterior motive. Massages, as he understood them, were an act of foreplay. But Pansy, being the pampered princess that she was, probably saw them as an impersonal luxury service. To her, they were likely just a matter of relaxation—not seduction.

Draco sat back on his heels and studied Pansy's outstretched frame. She was on the shorter side of average, with a soft, curvaceous body. Images of her bent over his lap a few weeks prior flashed in his mind and had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from replaying the memory completely. He needed to concentrate.

"Y-you need to take your top off," he croaked, not realizing how dry his mouth had become.

Pansy sat up on her elbows and looked at him over her shoulders, "Nice try, Malfoy. But you don't get to see my tits."

The mention of Pansy's breasts made Draco's cock twitch in his pants. He shifted his position, awkwardly trying to hide himself from Pansy's irritated gaze. If she knew that this would be arousing for him, she'd send him away immediately. She couldn't know that this was a task that he actually wanted to perform.

Draco cleared his throat, hoping he could school his voice into its usual disdainful drawl, "You know as well as I do that a proper massage...cannot be given through multiple layers of clothing. I have no choice to do this, but I might as well do it properly."

Pansy sighed and sat up, keeping herself turned away from Draco. "Fine, close you eyes."

Draco rolled his eyes before he closed them. He could hear the rustle of fabric being shed. "It's nothing I've never seen before. I've seen you starkers, you know." He didn't mention the fact that he'd also had his fingers inside her, although he thought it.

"We were eight," Pansy said as she lay back down, "And a lot has changed since then."

"Yeah..." Draco agreed as he straddled Pansy, carefully settling himself over the curve of her lower back, "Am I crushing you?" When Pansy shook her head, Draco began to knead the tense muscles in her shoulders with his long fingers. He continued, "I supposed you're no longer the kind of girl who thinks its great fun to tear off her dress and run naked through other people's fountains."

Pansy snorted into her pillow as she replayed the memory in her mind,"If I remember correctly, I only did it because _someone_ dared me. Besides, I wasn't talking about my body, not my personality."

Draco focused his attention on manipulating the flesh between Pansy's shoulder blades, not trusting himself to respond. He tried not to think of all the ways her body had changed in the past few years.

"Well, at least there is one thing that hasn't changed," Pansy continued with a soft chuckle.

"Oh? What's that?" Draco asked, barely able pay attention to what Pansy was saying as he slid his hands down her spine.

"You're still an annoying git who can goad me into do embarrassing things in public."

Draco felt his face flush as he thought of the bet that preceded this one. The red in his face wasn't a sign of arousal at the memory of Pansy sucking him off in front of their entire house, but of an emotion much less familiar to the youngest Malfoy—embarrassment. At the time it hadn't seemed remotely wrong, but now he felt ashamed of himself for letting things go that far, of actually making Pansy do something like that.

Draco's hands stilled. "Are you terribly angry at me for that?" he asked in a hushed voice.

Pansy sat up on her elbows again and turned to look at him. "Draco," she said flatly, "we were eight. I'm sure I've gotten over it by now."

"No, not that." Draco dropped his eyes, unable to meet Pansy's gaze. "The other." He couldn't even bring himself to say it.

"Oh," Pansy blushed and turned away from him again. Besides their argument in the corridor, they'd never discussed the two encounters they'd had. Pansy thought for a moment. In her mind, she'd been stupid enough to agree to the bet in the first place, knowing full well the consequences. And thanks to the extremely insular nature of Slytherin, the gossip hadn't reached the other houses. Everyone knew better than to tease her for it and since it was already common knowledge amongst their housemates, it couldn't be used against her in social politics. She gave the best shrug she could muster in her awkward position and said simply, "No."

Pansy sighed and laid her head back down. When Draco didn't resume the massage, she wiggled her hips to catch his attention, "Less brooding, Malfoy, and more rubbing."

Draco returned his attentions to kneading away the pain in Pansy's back and worked to push down his feelings of guilt, but he couldn't stop wondering whether or not she was being honest. People like Pansy didn't allow themselves to be swept away or consumed by their emotions, but maybe she was lying to save face in front of him. While his hands danced over her skin, pushing and pulling the tense muscles underneath, his mind drifted. He wanted to know how Pansy actually felt about him, and he wanted to figure out how he actually felt about her. For all their arguing and power-struggles in the past few years, the quiet intimacy of the moment felt strangely right.

A small moan from Pansy brought Draco's attentions back to the task at hand. He could feel a small knot in the small of her lower back and began to work the muscle underneath her skin, paying close attention to Pansy's quiet reactions.

"Merlin, Draco. That feels amazing," Pansy moaned into her pillow. "A little lower."

Draco wouldn't be able to get the leverage necessary to massage the small dip of Pansy's back from where he was sitting, so he scooted backwards to straddle Pansy's upper thighs. He tried not to notice the way that the bulge in his trousers was only inches away from the smooth curve of her arse or to imagine how it would feel to lean forward and nestle himself between her cheeks. He resumed his task, but his work was awkward and clumsy. He couldn't focus on what he was doing when all he could think about was lifting up the bottom of Pansy's skirt and running his hands along her arse.

Draco wasn't the only one who noticed that the shift in position had caused a shift in the mood. All the work Draco had done to loosen her muscles was erased in a flash when Pansy realized how close he was to her. The air in the room suddenly felt thick and heavy. Pansy was having trouble keeping her breath steady, she could focus on nothing but the feel of Draco's is hands on her. She began to wonder if she wanted him to continue with the massage or put those fingers to another use.

The waistband of Pansy's skirt was a like a roadblock, preventing Draco from continuing his path down her back. "May I?" Draco asked, fumbling with the zip. "That is, I mean, if you want...its-its in the way," he added lamely, hoping she would understand that he needed the obstacle to be removed if he were going to be able to continue with the message.

"Um-sure," Pansy mumbled, suddenly nervous. She lifted her hips a few inches from the bed, allowing Draco to pull the skirt off of her. She closed her eyes and tried not to focus on the fact that she was lying in a bed wearing nothing but her knickers while Draco Malfoy straddled her thighs. She pressed her face into her pillow, glad that Draco wouldn't be able to see how red it was.

Draco settled back down and resumed his task. He moved his attention to soft curve of Pansy's hips. The loan moan that escaped Pansy's throat went straight to his dick. His cock was painfully hard now, pulling the material of his trousers taut. He paused for a moment and pulled his hands away, steadying himself and fighting off the impulse to lean forward and rub himself against her. Pansy whimpered at the loss of contact and raised her hips, seeking Draco's skilled hands and silently asking for him to continue.

The sight of Pansy's knicker-clad ass raised into the air, begging for attention, was too much for Draco to bear. He slid his hands around her hips, digging his fingers into the soft flesh and holding her arse in its upwards position. He leaned forward and allowed himself to rub against her experimentally. He paused and held his breathe, waiting for Pansy's reaction. He had had expected her to start yelling, to turn around and hex him. But he didn't expect for her to let out a quiet cry and push back against him as if seeking more contact. Draco gulped down his nerves and trailed his right hand around Pansy's side, cupping her mound in his hand. He held himself up with one arm as he slid his hand underneath the elastic of her knickers and parted her folds with his fingers. She was already slick with arousal. Draco held his breath as he drew circles with the pads of his fingers around her clit.

"Draco..." Pansy moaned, her face still buried in her pillow. "This isn't what I meant by a massage."

"Do you want me to stop?" Draco asked, trying not to sound too disappointed.

"No," Pansy breathed.

The pleading whinge to her voice emboldened Draco. He slipped his hand out of her knickers and grabbed her hips. "Budge up," he commanded gruffly as he pulled her. Pansy complied, pushing back so that she was holding herself up on her forearms, her head hanging down and her arse high in the air. Draco pressed his chest flat against Pansy's back and alternated between kissing and playfully biting her shoulders. He wrapped his arm around her waist and slipped his hand back into her knickers and ran his fingers along the length of her slit. He teasingly pressed his fingers against her entrance, but failed to deliver the penetration she desired.

"My, my," Draco began in a teasing voice as he stroked Pansy's cunt, "it seems you have soiled your knickers, Miss Parkinson."

"Well then," Pansy gritted out through clenched teeth as she arched her back and pressed her arse against him, "you should clean me."

"I'd cast a quick scrougify," Draco whispered as he nibbled on her earlobe, pretending he didn't understand her meaning, "but I left my wand in my room."

"No magic, remember?" Pansy gasped as his fingers found her clit.

Draco pulled his hand out from between her legs again and used it to brace himself as he kissed, sucked, nibbled his way down her back. His trailed reached the firm globes of her arse. He slid her knickers down and helped her keep her balance as he pulled them off her legs. He scooted back on his heels and bent down, craning his neck so that he lick Pansy's cunt from behind. He used his fingers to part her lips and began to run his tongue across every inch he could reach, lapping her cunt like a cat drinking cream.

Pansy bit her lower lip in a feeble attempt to stifle her whimpers. No one had ever gone down on her from this angle before, and although the position was limiting she found the thought of having her arse sticking in the air as Draco held her open to him to be incredibly erotic. She wished she could see herself, to see what it looked like with Draco's face buried between her legs. But it wasn't enough, she wanted more, more contact, more pressure, more everything. She groaned and pushed back against him.

Draco moved his hands to Pansy's hips, steadying her as he waged a full assault with his tongue against her needy cunt. He pressed himself against her, hungrily drinking down her arousal and relishing the sweet, tangy, womanly taste. But the angle was awkward and his neck soon began to ache. He pulled back, licking a firm stripe up from her cunt up her crack. He brought his hands back to her arse and kneaded the firm, pale flesh before pulling her cheeks apart and swiping his tongue against the furrowed skin of her arsehole.

Pansy immediately stilled, shocked by the new sensation. Her head snapped up and she turned to look at the top of Draco's blonde head peaking out from behind her."Draco," her voice came out in a nervous but needy whine, "What-what are you doing?"

"Shh," Draco whispered into her arse as he rubbed comforting circles on her one of cheeks, "just relax. You'll like this."

Although Pansy wasn't sure why, she trusted him. She dropped her head and arched her back, presenting her arse to him in silent consent.

The site of Pansy, spread out before him in offering was almost too much for Draco to bear. He pressed the heel of his palm against the bulge in his trousers, now painful in its arousal. He rubbed himself through the fabric for a moment as he tried to memorize the sight before him. Pansy called his name, sharp and demanding, and he remembered to focus.

He pulled her cheeks apart again and licked another broad swipe from her soaking cunt up to her arsehole. He lapped at the tiny hole, gently at first, letting Pansy become accustomed to the feel. When she had relaxed and was again pushing against him demanding more, he stiffened his tongue and traced the hole with the tip. He tightened his grip on her arse cheeks and used his thumbs to spread her wider. He watched through lust clouded eyes as her tiny hole opened slightly. Draco practically purred at the sight and dove forward, driving the tip of his tongue inside.

Pansy gasped at the invasion. It wasn't unpleasant, but it was different. She tried not to think about what Draco was doing, but to focus on the sensations it created, the way the soft, gentle stabbing of his tongue sent shocks of arousal straight to her core. When Draco pulled back to lick a soft circle around her rim, she was surprised how strongly she felt the loss of his tongue inside of her. She groaned and pushed back against his face.

Draco chuckled. "Like that Pans?" he asked as he gave the soft flesh of her arse cheek a gentle bite. "Do you like it when I eat your tight, little arsehole? Has anyone ever done that to you before? Has anyone ever done this to you?" He dipped a finger into Pansy's cunt, swirling it between her lips and gathering her own juiced for lubricant. He then trailed his finger back to her stretched hole and began to push against it.

The groan that escaped Pansy was anything but ladylike. It was deep and guttural, full of need. Draco's finger was larger and firmer than his tongue had been, but she found the slight burning sensation it created as it slipped inside her to be more erotic than off putting. He pushed in slightly then and pulled back, before slipping it in again, getting further inside her each time.

"Merlin, Draco," Pansy moaned into her pillow. "What are you doing to me?"

"I'm fucking your arse with my finger," Draco said matter-of-factly, as though this were the most obvious and natural thing in the world. "You like it, Pans. I can tell, the way your greedy little hole just gobbles my finger up, offering no resistance. You're so tight and hot. I want to bury my cock deep in your ass." Pansy moaned in response and Draco had to pause for moment to get his own desire back under control. "Would you like that, Pans? Do you want me to fuck you in the arse?"

Pansy was losing it, Draco's dirty words lit a fire in her belly and every moment that passed was torture. She needed to cum. She pushed back against Draco's hand, her arse swallowing his finger completely. She felt so full and stretched with just one digit, she wasn't sure she could take anymore. Her cunt felt to empty by comparison, it was aching with a need to be filled.

"I-I want.." Pansy couldn't concentrate on the words as she was now rocking back and forth, fucking her arse on his finger in earnest.

Draco pulled his finger out and lined up another at her entrance. When Pansy pushed back against him, they both slipped in easily. He watched in amazement as both his fingers disappeared inside of her. His dick was throbbing, angry with neglect. His free hand fumbled with the button and zip of his trousers. He pulled his cock out, stroking it firmly in his hand, trying to sooth the pain of his ignored erection as he watched Pansy fuck herself on his hand.

"What do you want, Pans?" Draco asked. "Anything you want, I'll give you. Just say it."

Pansy stilled and hung her head. "I want...I want you to fuck me, Draco. I want—no, I _need_, to feel you inside of me," her voice was low, barely more than a whisper, but Draco cherished every word as though it were a sacred prayer. "I need you inside my cunt. _Please._"

Draco could have listened to her beg for him all night if it weren't for the painful throb of his swollen and ignored cock. He pulled his fingers from her quickly and Pansy groaned at the loss of them. He quickly shed his trousers and toed off his shoes. He pushed at Pansy's hips, "I want to see you."

Draco nearly blew his load like a third-year Hufflepuff the moment Pansy rolled over and he saw her face for the first time since he'd begun the massage. Her usually perfect hair was in disarray, stuck to her face with sweat and sticking up at odd angles. Her bottom lip was swollen from her unsuccessful attempts to bite back her moans. Her crystal blue eyes were dark with need and the black kohl she used to line them was smudged. She looked unhinged, she looked wanton, she looked beautiful.

"Your shirt," Pansy croaked, nodding at the button-up he still wore, "take it off. And, oh Merlin, your socks!"

Draco smiled at the fact that even in a state of sexual abandon Pansy managed to sound bossy and disapproving. When he finished disrobing completely he settled between Pansy's spread legs and took a moment to feast his eyes upon her, stretched out on the bed and waiting for _him. _He took his cock in hand and ran it down the length of her, covering himself in her juices. A low moan escaped his throat as the head of his cock brushed against her clit and Pansy arched up into him.

"Fuck, Draco, _please._" Pansy begged as she lifter her legs and hooked them around Draco's hips. She canted her hips upward, trying to catch him, to force his cock inside her. She was beyond caring what she looked or sounded like, she just needed to feel him inside of her. Her nerves were pulled taut in a desperate need for release.

He didn't need to be told twice. Draco angled his cock at her entrance and pushed forward. It took every ounce of self-control he had not to just plunge inside her warm depth. Instead he inched deeper at a tortuously slow pace, trying to relish the feel of himself disappearing deeper inside her. Pansy wasn't in the mood to relish, however, because she thrust upwards, claiming his entire length at once.

"_FUCK!"_ Draco exhaled when he was seated inside her fully. He didn't trust himself to move just yet, the feel of her cunt wrapped around him was almost too good.

"Yes, that is the idea," Pansy gritted through her teeth as she began to rock herself against him.

Draco began to fuck her slowly. He dropped his upper body so that their chests were pressed together, her tits squashed against the flat planes of his chest. He nibbled on her neck and shoulders, worshiping her creamy skin with his mouth as he pushed into her.

"Sweet Salazar," Draco breathed into her ear, "you feel amazing."

Pansy only moaned, "Please, Draco, _fuck me._"

Draco knew what she wanted. She didn't want him to rock against her gently, to slowly stretch and fill her, she wanted him to pound into her furiously. He didn't know how long he'd be able last like that, but he couldn't deny her anything.

Draco sat back and untangled Pansy's legs from around him. He brought them up and rested them on his shoulders before leaning down, using the weight of his body to push his cock even deeper inside of her. He fucked her with everything he had, impaling her with his dick, his pace fast and brutal. It must have been what Pansy wanted because she was writhing beneath him, moaning, whimpering, and babbling nonsense. She snaked her hand down between the bodies to frig her clit as he fucked her, but Draco swatted her hand away.

"Let me," he said brusquely.

Draco concentrated on fucking Pansy as she wanted, on rubbing with her swollen clit, on watching her face as her pleasure built. His own need to cum was secondary to his desire to watch her completely unravel beneath him. Pansy's breath was coming in erratic pants, her chest heaving and her tits bouncing as he fucked her mercilessly. She was fisting the sheets below her, pressing herself into Draco's hand.

Pansy could feel her orgasm building. Every time Draco plunged into her, every time his thumb brushed over her clit, she could feel herself climbing closer and closer to the edge. She needed it so badly, she felt like she'd die without release. And then Draco changed angles. He leaning forward, pushing one of her legs back towards her chest, stretching her wide. She was almost bent in half, but the gentle stretch made her entire body hum. She could feel him inside of her, fucking her impossibly deep.

"I'm-I'm going to-" Pansy tried to announce, but she couldn't concentrate long enough to get the words out. Draco's pace increased, she could feel his balls slapping against her arse with each thrust. She could hear the slick, slapping sounds of skin on skin. And the feel of his fingers on her oversensitive clit...it was too much, just too much. Pansy felt overwhelmed, like she couldn't take another second more of this torture when suddenly...

The coil of desire deep in Pansy's belly snapped and her vision flooded with light. She let out a quiet scream as waves of pleasure coursed through her body. She dug her fingernails into Draco's back, trying to hold on to herself as she was raked by the feel of her orgasm. She felt like she was drowning, it was so much pleasure it felt like pain.

"Shhh, just let go," she heard Draco whisper into her ear. He sounded so distant, but she listened. She relaxed her body and let her orgasm pass over her in waves, no longer trying to fight against it. Draco had slowed his pace, not wanting to overwhelm her but wanting stretch out her orgasm as long he could.

When the last wave subsided, Pansy felt as though she'd be hit by a modified jelly-leg jinx that made all the muscles in her body useless. She melted into the mattress, basking in the warm afterglow of an amazingly forceful orgasm. She could feel with weight of Draco's body pressed above her, the tickle of his warm breathe against her neck.

"You look so beautiful when you come," he whispered.

Draco's breath caught in his throat when Pansy opened her eyes to look at him. She looked exhausted, completely spent, and more beautiful than anything he'd even seen. Her smile seemed almost shy, but it lacked embarrassment. There was no suspicion or hate, no mock or challenge in her gaze, just pure, sated happiness.

"Thank you," she laughed into his neck as she gave him a playful bite.

"Do you, um, do you need a minute?" Draco asked, motioning down to where their bodies were still joined. He suddenly felt nervous.

"No, I'm fine." Pansy smiled again. Merlin, Draco would give anything to see her smile at him like that all of the time. She left a trail of kisses down the column of Draco's neck. "I want you to cum inside me." When Draco leaned back to study her face, she just giggled. "Don't worry, I'm on the potion."

And then Pansy did something that changed everything. Bracing herself on one arm, she sat up and kissed Draco. It wasn't shy or tentative, it wasn't harsh or brutal. She kissed him like they'd been lovers for years, as though she had every right in the world. There was nothing hesitant or rushed about it, it was the kind of lazy kiss that only comes with true intimacy. Draco's heart swelled as he realized that _this_ was their first kiss. He'd fucked her, he'd had his fingers in her arse, he'd cum down her throat, but he'd never kissed her before. And even if they'd gone about reaching this moment in all the wrong ways, their kiss felt exactly right.

Careful not to break the kiss, Draco began to move inside her again. He knew it wouldn't take much for him to cum, he'd been so perilously close the edge for so long. Pansy wrapped her legs around his back and pulled him against her, trying to close the nonexistent gap between them. The feel of her legs around him, her breasts pressed against his chest, her tongue in his mouth, it was like heaven to him. He'd never felt closer to anyone than he did wrapped up in Pansy's embrace. They stayed intertwined like that for Merlin knows how long, slowly rocking against each other and whimpering gentle words into each other's mouths. When Draco finally came, it felt neither desperate nor needy. He broke the kiss and leaned his forehead against Pansy's as he came long and hard inside of her.

Draco pulled himself out of Pansy and fell down onto the bed next to her, feeling simultaneously exhausted and exhilarated. Pansy turned onto her side and hooked her leg around Draco's hip. "Come here," she laughed softly as she pulled him into a lazy round of post-coital snogging. Their rivalry and their bets were long forgotten as they kissed.

Draco wasn't sure he'd ever be able to verbalize just how _right_ it felt to have his arms wrapped around Pansy, kissing her swollen lips and running his hands through her sweat-soaked hair. He tried to show her what he couldn't tell her, tried to worship her soft skin with his lips. He wanted her to feel as he did, to feel as though this was perfect, this was right, this was home. He found bliss in her arms and he never wanted it to end. He wished he could just tell her—

—_Merlin, Pansy. I fucking love you._

Pansy stopped. Her fingernails, which had been lightly dragging up and down his back, sank into his shoulder's painfully. She pushed back and looked into Draco's face.

"What did you just say to?" She hissed.

"I—I didn't say anything," He blinked with confusion—why had she stopped? What happened to her gentle, warm smile? Why was she looking at him with that angry look of distrust that he suddenly come to loathe?

"Why would you say that to me, Malfoy?" She asked again, her voice cold and her nostrils flared. She rolled away and scrambled to find her clothing.

"What are you talking about? I didn't say—" And then it hit him. They still had the mind link open. She must have heard him, she must have hard him think... "Oh gods, Pansy. I didn't mean—"

"Well, obviously not." Pansy interrupted as she pulled her sweater back over her head. She grabbed his trousers from the foot of the bed and threw them at him. "I think you should leave."

"Please, let me explain," Draco begged, growing frantic. He wasn't entirely sure what he felt but he knew he wasn't ready to let it go just yet.

"Get out," Pansy hissed. Her tone was low and full of warning. Draco knew it well, he knew that when Pansy used that tone she wasn't to be argued with. She sat on the edge of the bed, her back to him. "Get out of my fucking sight. Right, fucking, now," she was shaking with anger.

"But Pans..." Draco tried again, against his better judgment. If he left now, he might never get a chance to explain, to make it right.

"Don't you dare call me that, you arsehole!" Pansy yelled as the door to the dorm swung open. The air in the room began to swirl and Draco realized that Pansy's anger was manifesting itself as accidental magic. He could feel the air being sucked from the room like a vacuum through the open door, pulling at him, trying to force him to leave.

He braced himself against the wind, "Please, Pansy! Calm down, let me explain."

Pansy jumped off the bed and rounded on him. He took a step back unconsciously, intimated by the fury that burned in her eyes. "Explain what, Malfoy? I'm sick of playing these games with you. I thought...I thought...well I don't know what I thought. But I didn't expect you to be so fucking cruel right after that," she motioned towards the bed where they had just been. She was near tears. "You're a sick, twisted little git. Leave, _now._ The bet is off, I don't want to play anymore. I don't even want to see your face ever again."

Pansy pushed against his chest and it was as though a hook had been attached to his navel. He was flying backwards through the air and out of the door. He landed against the corridor wall with a harsh thud and fell to the ground. He groaned from the impact, a sharp pain shooting from his tailbone up his back. The rest of his clothes flew from the room, hitting him in the face, before the door slammed shut.

_Please, Pansy, don't do this. It's not a game, I'm not playing anymore._ He begged in his mind, knowing she could hear him.

_Fuck off, _was all he got in response before a cool breeze passed through him. His mind felt suddenly empty. He knew she had shut the link.

Ignoring the pain in his back he crawled across the floor and pressed his ear against the door. He could hear Pansy's muffled cries coming from inside. He wanted to rush in, to hold her, to kiss away her tears. But he knew she'd never let him in, she wouldn't let him comfort her like he desperately wanted to. There was a dull ache in his chest when he realized this, but it was nothing compared to the sharp pain that he felt when he realized that he had been the cause of her tears.

There was nothing to do be redress and return to his own dorm. Tomorrow he find her, tomorrow he would make her listen, tomorrow he would win her back. Tomorrow.

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><p><strong>Additional Author's Note: You didn't really think it would be that easy for them, did you?<strong>

**Review, please!**


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Note: Sorry for the delay in getting this chapter out. Insert excuses and pleas for forgiveness here.**

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><p>Draco waited for Pansy in the common room the next morning before breakfast. He called out to her as she left the girls' dormitories. A slight narrowing of her eyes was the only recognition she gave before squaring her shoulders and marching towards the portrait hole. Draco rushed after her, grabbing her arms and trying to force her to stop.<p>

"Look, Pansy," Draco began hurriedly, trying to ignore the stab of guilt he felt when he saw the red puffiness of her eyes. "About last night—"

Pansy winced and pulled out of his grasp, rubbing her arm as if his touch had burned her. "I don't want to hear it, Malfoy." Her voice was hard and low, coming out in a controlled hiss. "I told you to leave me alone. Its over, I'm not playing these games with you anymore."

She stormed from the room, her robes billowing out behind her. She ignored the sound of Draco attempting to call her back.

Pansy was avoiding him. For the next week, anytime Draco came within three feet of her, Pansy would unceremoniously tell him to fuck off, before turning on her heel and marching away with more dignity than she felt. Draco was persistent at first, dogging her steps between classes and trying to sit next to her at meals. He sent her owls that came back unopened, passed her notes that he watched her incendio. He even paid a first year an entire galleon to leave a bouquet of flowers he'd stolen from Professor Sprout's garden on her bed. He was saddened, but unsurprised, to find them in the common room waste bin the next morning.

But with each failed attempt to win her favor, his will to apologize faded. Each refusal chipped away at his pride. And what, he wondered, was a Malfoy without their pride? He'd noticed the way that Theo and Tracey had taken to exchanging pitying glances each time they saw Pansy walk away from him. There were three things in this life that Draco absolutely hated: Harry Potter, losing, and pity. The thought that he had—that he _was—_hurting Pansy made his stomach tie in knots, but the idea that he was losing the respect of his peers ignited a much more familiar and defensive feeling.

One last attempt, Draco decided. He had already debased himself enough for one lifetime, he had to draw the line somewhere. He wanted Pansy to know that he hadn't said what he said—or more accurately, thought what he thought—to hurt her. It wasn't the cruel joke that she thought it was. He wasn't sure why that particular thought had popped into his mind, but there was no ill intention behind it. He wanted her to know this, but he wouldn't keep pissing in the wind forever.

When Draco saw that Pansy was taking the long walk down to their Care of Magical Creatures lesson alone, he seized the opportunity. She'd be late for class if she went back to castle and it would be too dangerous for her to venture off the path that led down the steep hill to Hagrid's hut. She'd be forced to let him walk with her. She'd have to hear him out no matter what.

He hurried down the path until he was just a few paces behind before he called her name. Pansy stopped short for a moment. Draco could see her shoulders tense, but she said nothing and continued to walk.

"Pansy, will you please just listen to me for a moment!" He implored as he sidled up next to her. Her face betrayed no indication that she had heard him, but her pace quickened. "I wasn't playing with you. I swear on my honour as a Malfoy, I wasn't trying to trick or deceive you. What happened between us wasn't a part of any game. I don't know why I thought that...thing that I thought...but it wasn't trying to hurt you. I wouldn't do that."

Pansy gave an indignant scoff at that. It was more of a response than he'd gotten in days, so Draco pressed on. "Please believe me, Pans. I know you think I was trying to embarrass you, but what would I have to gain from doing something like that? If anything, I'm the one who should be embarrassed. I don't know why I thought it, and I honestly don't know what it is that I feel, but I know that its something I've never felt before."

Throwing caution to the wind, Draco reached for her hand, as though the gesture could reveal the sincerity of his words. But before he could grab it, Pansy was holding it up with her wand trained on his chest.

"Say one more word to me and I'll hex your bollocks off," she snapped. "I don't care what you say, I wont hear a word of it. Just because I can't see what you have to gain by manipulating me, doesn't mean that you're not. There was a time in my life when I would have been naïve enough to fall for your lies, but I know better than now." The words tumbled from her mouth quickly and Pansy feared the cold walls she had built would crumble if she continued. She took a calming breath and continued, staring directly into his eyes. "It doesn't matter that you say you don't know what it is you feel, because I know how I feel. I loathe you, Draco Malfoy. _Loathe._"

Draco was taken aback by the venom in her voice as she finished her speech. She'd said just as much to him before, many times in fact, but this time her words stung like no jinx he'd ever felt. The knot in his stomach began to sink and he felt as though the rest of him was being dragged down with it. He watched dumbly as she turned and hurried down the path, eager to put as much distance between them as possible.

The incessantly cheerful attitude of Hagrid did nothing to help Draco's suddenly surly mood when he finally reached class. Draco weighed the pros and cons of using an Unforgivable when the great oaf who fancied himself a proper professor announced that in the spirit of house unity, they would be paired with a student from another house for the duration of their lesson. Draco gave an exaggerated groan when he was paired with Neville. Being forced to work with Longbottom was like adding insult to injury, a mountain of whipped cream on the bowl of shit that was his day.

Draco didn't think things could get worse until he heard the overgrown man-beast call out "Parkinson and Potter!"

Draco sneaked a glance at Pansy, who was making a show of reluctantly dragging herself towards Potter as though she were trying to fight off a command given under the Imperious curse. For his part, Potter didn't look any more pleased with this arrangement, but he at least attempted to be civil.

"All right, Parkinson?" Harry asked.

"Hardly," she scoffed and crossed her arms.

In an attempt to show her displeasure at being paired with the Gryffindor boy-wonder, Pansy paid little attention as Hagrid prattled on about crups. They were a type of domesticated dog with a forked tail, Hagrid explained, bred and owned exclusively by wizards and were instinctively wary of muggles. The litter he was going to show them were still young puppies, who had yet to have their tails removed in accordance with wizarding law. Pansy was wholly unprepared when Hagrid approached her and Harry, placing a tiny black pup into her arms.

Pansy squealed in delight as the puppy wriggled in her grip, trying to free itself of her hold so that it climb up her chest to lick her face. She had always tried in vain to hide the excitement she felt around some of the more beautiful animals they studied, but the puppy's enthusiasm was impossible not to catch. With each excited attempt to jump from her grasp and assault her with a string of slobbery puppy kisses, Pansy laughed harder.

"I think he likes you," Harry said with a small smile as he watched the display. He didn't think he'd ever seen the Slytherin girl laugh before, not when it wasn't at someone else's expense anyway.

"Of course he does, Potter" Pansy said absently as she stroked the small dog's head. Her voice had taken on the cooing tones that people used when they talked to small animals and babies."He's a silly little beast. Aren't you Wagtail?"

"You've named him Wagtail?" Harry asked with a laugh.

The sound of Harry's laugh seemed to remind Pansy where she was and what she was doing. She quickly thrust the dog into Harry's arms.

"After Myron Wagtail, of course." When Harry only looked at her expectantly, she rolled her eyes. "Lead singer of the Weird Sisters. Although," she added, pinching the dog's forked tail fondly, "perhaps Wag_tails_ is more appropriate."

Harry laughed again and set the dog down so they could begin their assignment. But as soon as his little paws hit the ground, Wagtails was jumping up the legs and letting out loud barks for attention. This earned another round of laughs and coos from Pansy.

Their assignment was to try and teach the animal a few basic commands, how to sit, stay, and roll over. Pansy assumed that the unit on crups was less about teaching the students about magical beasts—because besides their ability to smell muggles and the odd-shape of their tales, they were rather normal animals—and more about giving the class a much desired reprieve from the uglier and more dangerous animals they usually studied.

Unable to prevent her own grin, Pansy glanced around to see the smiling faces of her classmates. Her eyes stopped when they fell on Draco. He was the only student who seemed unaffected by the boundless energy of the puppies. He wasn't even paying attention to his, nor did he seem to care that their dog was a runner and Neville had taken to chasing it around in a circle. Instead his eyes were fixed on Potter, glaring daggers at the other boy.

Pansy knew that look. That was the look that Draco wore when Potter beat him at quidditch, when Granger got a higher mark on an exam, or when Zabini's weekly care package from his mother contained more sweets than his own did. That was the look Draco got when he was jealous. A small, petty part of Pansy glowed with the idea that Draco may be staring at Potter like that because he was jealous of him for being her partner. It was too easy an opportunity to let pass.

Pansy bent over and scooped the puppy back into her arms. She turned towards Harry and held it out to him. He blinked for a moment and then reached out to pet the animal as she held it.

"Potter," she said sweetly, "I think Wagtails likes you as well."

Harry grinned widely. "Of course he does, Parkinson," he said, mimicking her own response back at her.

Pansy gave a bright, gay laugh. A little too bright, in fact, because it only made Harry look at her in confusion. It hadn't been _that_ funny. But she wasn't laughing for Potter's benefit. She sneaked a quick glance at Draco out of the corner of her eye and was pleased to see his lips were pressed together so tightly they'd nearly disappeared. She shifted the dog so that she could hold it in one arm and brought her free hand up to brush back the fringe that fallen over Potter's brow.

"You know," she said quietly, "your hair looks rather nice like this. The longer length suits you."

Harry was motionless, rooted in place by shock. He wasn't sure which was stranger, the fact that Pansy Parkinson was complimenting him or the fact that he didn't mind it. He blushed furiously. "Thanks," he mumbled, unable to meet her gaze. "Yours too."

"What was that?" Pansy asked, leaning in a little closer than necessary and turning her head as though Potter were whispering a secret. At this angle, Harry couldn't help but notice the long column of her pale throat.

"I-I just said," he mumbled again, unsure of why his mouth had suddenly gone dry and his palms suddenly felt so wet, "that, I like your hair as well. It looks really, uh, soft."

"Oh, thank you." Pansy gave him the most charming smile she could muster as she brought her free hand to her own perfectly coiffed hair and gave it a pat. "Here," she said, turning towards him, "take Wagtails back. He's shedding on my robes." Pansy had offered him the dog, but didn't move to hand it over. Potter was force to reach over and scoop the animal from her arms, his fingers accidentally brushing against the soft swell of her chest as he did so.

"I'm sorry," he stuttered as he held the animal to his own chest. "I didn't mean..."

Pansy gave another, softer laugh this time. She leaned in and whispered, "That's all right, Potter. I don't mind." She watched with amusement as Harry turned an even brighter shade of red. She chanced another glance at Draco to see that he was practically shaking, barely able to contain his anger. She knew it wasn't subtle, but she couldn't be damned. Catching his eye, Pansy threw Draco a wink.

The rest of the lesson passed quickly. Pansy took any opportunity she could to touch Harry's arm, to whisper in his ear, to laugh a little too loudly at his jokes. When the lesson was over and everyone had returned the crups to Hagrid, Pansy waited until she knew Draco was hearing range.

"This has been fun, Potter," she smiled. "I hope we can work together again some time. I think we make a good team."

Harry scratched the back of his neck. "Yeah, I'd like that," he said with a sheepish smile. "And, uh, you can call me Harry if you'd like."

"Harry," she said experimentally. "I think I like that." She tossed him a look over her shoulder as she turned to leave. "Well then, see you later Harry."

Pansy could feel two sets of eyes trailing her as she made her way back up the path. Feeling better about herself and more powerful than she had in weeks, she let her hips sway a little more than usual.

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><p>Later that evening Pansy found herself in favorite spot on the sofa before the fire, sharing a bottle of firewhiskey with her friends. Her good mood from that day's lesson had yet to rub off, but it seemed to have rubbed a few of her housemates the wrong way.<p>

"What was that in class today?" Blaise demanded, studying Pansy carefully over the rim of his tumbler.

"What was what?" Pansy asked innocently.

"You know full well what. You! And Potter! Flirting!" Blaise snapped.

"I don't know what you're talking about," Pansy sniffed indignantly before taking a sip of her drink.

"Oh, come off it Pans," Tracey said, but her voice was more conspiratorial than accusatory. "You obviously were. You probably could have seen the poor boy's boner from Ravenclaw tower."

"Maybe I was," Pansy shrugged. "So what?"

"So..." Blaise began, although he seemed at a loss as to what. "So...he's a Gryffindor!" he offered finally.

"Oh really, Blaise," Pansy rolled her eyes. "So I flirted with a Gryffindor a little, its not like we're going to get married and have a pack of Slytherdor bastards."

"Yes, but _why?_" Tracey pressed. "I mean, it was just for a bit of a laugh, right? You don't actually have feelings for him. Do you?"

Pansy gave a quick glance around the common room and spotted Draco sitting a few feet away. He, Crabbe, and Goyle were hunched over their potions books, presumably working on their essay for Snape. Crabbe and Goyle continued to scribble furiously, but Draco's quill had stilled. He was obviously listening very hard.

"He's all right," Pansy did her best to sound nonchalant. "I figured after all these years of blind hatred, it wouldn't hurt to be civil to him. And then I found out he was kind of charming." She took another sip and let her words sink in. "And you've got to admit, he is rather fit. In that, dashing, heroic way."

The girls in the group mumbled in consent, while the boys stiffened in their seats.

"Oh, what would you know about it Millie?" Zabini snapped again.

"Oi!" Millicent cried indignantly. "Just because I go with girls doesn't mean I'm blind. He's an attractive bloke. I can understand why Pansy likes him so much."

Pansy was about to correct her, to point out that she didn't actually like Potter "so much," but decided against it. She heard a rustle of papers and robes behind her and turned to see Draco storming through across the room.

"Good night, darling!" She called out as he disappeared into the boys' dormitories.

Pansy returned her attentions to her drink, barely able to contain her smirk.

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><p>True to his promise to himself, Draco didn't try to talk to Pansy the next day. The rational side of his brain knew that her whole show with Potter had been designed to make him jealous. He knew the entire thing was a charade, but the irrational part of him couldn't help but feel a twist of anger in his gut every time he recalled the way Pansy gently touched Potter's arm as she laughed at his joke or how Potter not-so-subtly tried to sneak a peak down her robes when she leaned over to pet their crup.<p>

He knew that Pansy couldn't actually care for Potter, but the idea that Potter might have fallen for her tricks—that Potter might now fancy Pansy—drove him mad.

Because Draco knew that if Potter did have designs on her, he'd eventually win Pansy over. Potter was just the kind of lucky bastard who always got what he wanted. And the thought of Potter wanting something that Draco himself so desperately wanted—but couldn't have—consumed his every thought for the next three days. He watched them both closely. Each shy smile that Potter gave her between classes felt like knife in Draco's gut. When Pansy nodded and returned his smiles with a lilting "Harry," the knife twisted.

Draco had no appetite Sunday at dinner. He'd spent the entire meal watching Pansy whisper to Tracey behind her hand, wondering if she was talking about Potter. He pushed his plate away with disgust and stood from the table, fully intending on returning to his dorm to brood. But as he whirled around from his seat, his shoulders crashed in to someone walking by.

"Watch it, Malfoy," Potter spat.

Draco stepped towards him, but Potter did not step back. "Make me, Potter."

"Draco, stop it." Pansy pleaded from behind him, casting a nervous glance at the faculty table. She was more concerned with the fact that a brawl in the Great Hall would cause Slytherin to lose house points than she was with Harry's actual well-being.

The chattering in the Great Hall quieted to whispers as students from each house turned to watch the confrontation. The rivalry between Harry and Draco was legendary and their arguments were always a sight to behold.

"It's all right, Pansy," Harry said, not taking his eyes off of Malfoy.

"Don't talk to her," Draco growled. "You've got no right to talk to her."

"You don't decide who I can and can't talk to," Harry growled back. "If Pansy wants me to talk to her, I'll talk to her."

Draco took another step forward, closing what little space was between them. "Back off, Potter. Leave her alone."

Harry broke their eye contact to glance at Pansy, curious to see what she made of this situation. But Pansy was pretending to be very interested in the pumpkin juice in her goblet.

"What if I don't want to?" Harry demanded, returning his attention back to Malfoy. "What if she doesn't want me too?"

"Back. Off. Potter." Draco's voice was so low it was barely audible. "She's mine. You keep your grubby little half-blood hands off of her."

Harry gave a dark chuckle, "I don't really think she belongs—"

The rest of his sentence was cut off by Draco's fist, which landed squarely on Harry's jaw. Harry stumbled back a few steps, caught unawares by the blow. His hand shot up to cup the soon-to-be-bruised flesh and his eyes narrowed.

And then they were on each other, fighting like common muggles after one too many pints down at the pub. Fists were flying, for every blow that landed three went off course. There was a sudden swell of bodies as students stood up at their tables, trying to get a better look at the two boys who were now rolling around, grappling on the floor. McGonagall was rushing down the aisle, trying to push through the crowd of students that had gathered around to watch the fight.

Pansy, for her part, stood and leaned over the table, watching with interest. She really hadn't see that coming.

Although she had to admit, she rather liked the idea that there were two boys attempting to beat the shit out of each other over her. In its own way, it was really kind of romantic.

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><p><strong>Only one (maybe two) more chapters to go!<strong>

**Remember kids, reviews save lives! **


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Note: Please, read and review!**

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><p>The first thing that Draco noticed when he regained consciousness was a sharp pang in his chest. The second was the starch white linens of the bed. The third was the sound of hushed voices a few feet away. It took him a minute to remember how he'd come to be in the hospital wing. Potter. It was always Potter. McGonagall and Snape had been able to push through the crowd of students and break up their tussle, but they hadn't been able to stop Draco from taking one final, desperate lunge at the other boy. Nor had they been able to stop him from hitting his head on the side of the Slytherin table as they both fell to the ground. Draco groaned as he sat up in bed, the pain in his chest was acute and the place where his head had hit the heavy oak table throbbed dully. He remembered the blood, but nothing else. He reached up to feel for his wound, but it appeared to already have been magically sealed.<p>

"Harry, stop it," one of the hushed voices cut through Draco's thoughts. He knew that voice—feminine, but with a hard edge. He stilled his breath and strained his ears to listen.

"But Pansy," the other voice pleaded, "we need to talk about this."

"There is nothing to talk about, Potter." Pansy whispered harshly. "Nothing that can't wait until morning at least. Now, stop your whinging and drink your potion. You need to sleep."

"Fine," Harry conceded. "But we'll talk tomorrow, yeah?"

Pansy responded with a labored sigh, "Sure."

There was the faint pop of a vial being uncorked and then the soft rustle of sheets.

"Goodnight, Pansy," Harry whispered.

Draco heard Pansy's quiet footsteps as she padded away from Potter's bedside. He tried to lay back down before he was caught eavesdropping, but the quick movement caused the pain in his chest to flare again and he couldn't hold back the low groan that escaped his lips. As if on cue, Pansy's head peaked around the side of his privacy curtain.

"Draco," Pansy blinked, "you're awake."

"No thanks to your boyfriend," Draco grunted as he tried to reposition himself comfortably on the bed. "The brute damn near killed me."

Pansy rolled her eyes as she settled herself in the chair next to his bed. "Don't be so dramatic, Draco. You weren't anywhere near dead. And Potter's _not_ my boyfriend."

Draco turned away from her, refusing to meet her gaze. "He might as well be." He'd hoped his voice would sound cold, but even he could hear the petulant whine. "I can't believe you're sneaking in here after hours to tend his wounds. Better get used to it, Parkinson—he's in here often enough."

"Yes, and its usually your fault, isn't it?" Pansy asked with a hint of amusement in her voice. She reached out and laid her hand on Draco's arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. "But I didn't come to check on Potter, Draco. I came to check on you. He woke up when I sneaked in. What was I to do?"

Draco shifted slightly so he could examine Pansy out of the corner of his eye. There was no mischievous grin, no quirked eyebrow, no air of self-satisfied smugness. "Really?" he asked suspiciously. "Why? Why would you come to check on me? You _loathe_ me, remember?"

Pansy sighed again, but her hand remained in its place. "All right, so maybe _loathe_ was a bit harsh. I figured that we needed to talk."

"Surely it can wait 'til morning?" Draco raised an eyebrow.

"That's what you say to someone when you don't actually want to talk to them," Pansy replied, jerking her head in Harry's direction. Then suddenly, her face fell. "Unless, of course, you don't want to talk to me. This was a bad idea, maybe I should just go—"

Pansy moved to stand, but Draco's seeker instincts made him quicker. He turned and grabbed her arm. "No, stay with me. Let's talk."

Pansy gave a small smile and relaxed back into her chair. "He cracked three of your ribs, you know. Madame Pomfrey gave you some potions, but ribs are hard to mend."

Draco settled back into his pillows. "Tell me I broke something of his in return?" he asked hopefully.

"Just his nose," Pansy said as she scrunched up her own small one. "It was a good fight though!Well, until you passed out from blood loss." She fumbled in the pockets of her robes for a minute before pulling out a small vial of clear liquid. "Here. I brought you this," she said, handing it to Draco. "It's a pain potion that I stole from Snape's cupboard—way stronger than the stuff Pomfrey is allowed to give students."

Draco eyed the potion warily. "How did you manage to steal this from Snape?"

"I'm a _prefect_, Draco." Pansy said as though she were explaining it to a small child. "What kind of Slytherin would I be if I didn't abuse my power?"

Draco gave a small laugh that caused his ribs to ache again. He uncorked the vial and raised it to his lips. He cast one more doubtful glance at Pansy.

"Oh honestly, Malfoy," Pansy said with irritation. "It's not poison! If I wanted you dead, I'd be more creative about it than poisoning you while you're laid up in hospital."

Pansy watched carefully as Draco raised the vial in a mock toast and swallowed it down in a single gulp. He could feel warmth radiating through his body as the potion worked its way through his system. After a moment he pushed himself up to sitting position, only to be overcome with that same sharp stab of pain.

"This isn't a pain potion," Draco said flatly.

"Oh, its not?" Pansy asked innocently as she took the vial from his hands and held it under her nose. She gave a sniff. "Guess not."

"Pansy, what did you give me?" Draco struggled to keep his voice calm.

"Did you know that Snape keeps his pain potions right next to his supply of Veritaserum?" Pansy asked, nonplussed.

"Veritaserum?" Draco hissed loudly, wrenching his arm out from underneath Pansy's hand. "Why would you give me that?"

"Oh, keep your knickers on! You're going to wake Madame Pomfrey." Pansy chided. Her lips curled into the mischievous grin Draco had come to fear, "I already told you, I thought we needed to talk. And no offense, Malfoy, but I don't believe half the things you say. This way, you can't lie to me."

"You're a devious little witch, Parkinson," Draco grumbled.

Pansy relaxed into her chair and crossed her arms, looking quite pleased with herself. "Oh please, Draco, tell me how you really feel."

"You know it doesn't work like that, you've got to ask me a direct question if you want to compel me to be...honest." Draco spat out the word "honest" as though it tasted bad in his mouth.

"All right then," Pansy nodded. "Why did you punch Potter?"

Draco smiled smugly, that one was easy. "Because I hate him, obviously," he said with perfect honesty.

"For Salazar's sake!" Pansy groaned. "You're really going to fight me on this, even with Veritas? Fine. What happened in the Great Hall tonight that inflamed your hatred for the _great _ Harry Potter so much that you felt compelled to hit him?"

Draco tried to fight the potion, but it felt as though the words were forming somewhere deep inside his stomach and forcing their way out through his mouth. He tried to push them down, but to no avail.

"He was talking to you," Draco said with a set jaw, as though refusing to fully open his mouth would prevent his confession's escape. "And it made me jealous," he added petulantly, crossing his arms and trying not to wince.

"Why did it make you jealous?" Pansy asked in a slightly less accusatory voice.

"Because I fancy you!" Draco nearly yelled, the strength of the potion combined with his own frustration forced the words out with gusto. "Because I fancy you and you don't want to be with me. And if Potter fancies you, you're going to end up with him and not me because that's how this works. The hero always gets the girl in the end."

A small, amused smile crept over Pansy's face. "Oh and I'm the girl, am I?" she asked with a quirked eyebrow.

"Of course you're the bloody girl!" Draco groaned, completely unable to prevent himself from speaking now. "You've always been the bloody girl!"

"Always?" Pansy asked with confusion. "Draco," she began warily, "how long have you fancied me?"

Draco opened his mouth, expecting the words to tumble from his lips immediately, but nothing came out. He paused and considered the question. He could feel the answer being pulled from some distant part of his brain that he didn't use often. It was as though the potion was sifting through his thoughts and ferreting out the truth—truths that he didn't even realize existed.

"Since fourth year, I guess." He began suddenly, surprising himself. He was unable to control the words tumbling out. "Maybe longer. Maybe even since we were children. But fourth year was when I knew, when I thought that maybe we could be more than just childhood friends. But then Yule Ball happened." Draco saw the memory of the evening replay in his mind, the humiliation he felt when Pansy slid easily into Blaise's arms, the way his heart ached when she ran her hand up the well-muscled thighs of Durmstrang boys, the blow to his ego he felt as he watched her leave the ball on the arm of that French girl. "After that night, I made myself stop caring for you. I told myself that I didn't fancy you, that I didn't even really like you as a person. And it worked all right for a while, I'm almost as good at lying to myself as I am to others," Draco paused for a moment and took a deep breath. "But I guess it never really went away, did it?"

Draco chanced a peak at Pansy to see that she was staring at the primly folded hands in her lap. The heavy silence between them stretched. His stomach was tied in horrible knots as he waited for her to respond.

"Then why," Pansy began in a small voice, "if you fancied me, did you make a show of dating every other girl in our house? Why did you rub Daphne in my face? Why did you make me take that horrible bet?"

"Because I didn't _want_ to fancy you," Draco nearly growled with frustration. Wasn't she listening? Didn't she understand? "Because you hurt me and I wanted to hurt you back. Because I was stupid and proud. When we started the bets, I really did just want to humiliate you like I felt you'd humiliated me. But now...now that's the last thing I want. I feel absolutely horrible about it—about all of it. I wish there was something I could do to make you see that, to make you see that I'm not playing a game anymore. "

Pansy tilted her head and studied Draco's reclining form. His hair was in complete disarray, jutting out at odd angles in some places and smashed flat in others. She wasn't sure if it was the Veritaserum or just him, but the sincerity on his face matched the honesty of his words. His eyes were deep grey pools, opened wide with hope. The moonlight that shone in through the windows bounced off his pale skin and hair, making it looks as if he were glowing. He looked younger than he normally did, free of the pretense and airs that he usually wore as shield against those who would try to get too close. Pansy felt a stab of guilt in her stomach.

"I'm sorry Draco," she said quietly, returning her gaze to her hands. "I wanted to know, but I shouldn't have—not like this. It wasn't fair for me to have given you that potion. I shouldn't pry like this."

Ignoring the pain in his chest, Draco sat up fully and swung his legs over the side of the bed. He reached out and cupped Pansy's cheek in the palm of his hand, forcing her to look up at him. "Pansy, since when have you cared about fair?" he asked with a smile.

Pansy's laugh caught in her throat. She closed her eyes and leaned into Draco's gentle touch. Her heart was pounding, but she felt strangely calm. There was a stillness in the air that she found comforting.

"It's not like there were any other options. I would never have admitted this stuff without the Veritas. But, I'm kind of glad that I have. So, ask," Draco encouraged as he traced the soft line of her jaw. "Whatever it is you're thinking—just ask. No more lying, no more secrets, ok?"

Draco watched as Pansy worried her bottom lip with indecision. She appeared to be warring with herself. Finally, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

"That thing..." Pansy started shakily with her eyes still pressed shut tightly, "that you said...when we were together in my room—what I mean to say is...do you?"

Draco sighed and waited for the sensation of the potion rooting through his brain. He was just as keen to know the answer to this as she was. He'd asked himself the same question countless times over the past week. He didn't know what it felt like to love someone besides his family, he'd always assumed that he wasn't even capable of such a thing. But when he played the moment over in his mind, he couldn't remember anything but the overwhelming feeling of _rightness_ that he felt lying next to Pansy, the weight of her body pressed against his, the sound of her ragged breaths as she attempted to recover from her orgasm. It was more than just post-coital pleasantries, he had felt more at home in that moment than he'd ever felt since he came to Hogwarts. He'd discovered something that he didn't even realize he was missing and now he ached in its absence.

He couldn't go back to how it was before that night. He didn't want to.

Draco smiled as awareness dawned over him. "I could," he nodded, "I want to."

Pansy opened one eye slowly,"You want to?"

Draco slid his hand to the back of her head and pulled her towards him, pressing their foreheads together. "I want to," he repeated in a whisper, "Let me."

Pansy let out a sigh of relief, she wasn't sure which answer she had feared more, but Draco's simple statement alleviated her worries. He hadn't said that just to hurt her and she didn't feel pressured to make any declarations of her own. She brought her hands up and held the back of Draco's head, mirroring his own affirming embrace. She carded her fingers through his surprisingly soft hair and felt her heart swell. "I think I could too," she whispered back, pressing a soft kiss on his lips.

Draco's lips trembled against Pansy's as he kissed her back tentatively. They were both worried that even the slightest misstep would break the shaky peace they'd just made. But with each passing second their nervousness melted and the kiss grew more confident and assured. Draco made a pathetic mewling sound that he would later deny as Pansy parted her lips to allow him better access.

The weight of Pansy pressing against him made his chest scream in pain, but Draco ignored it. It was secondary to knowledge that Pansy was here, kissing him without any pretense. Whatever was happening had nothing to do with tawdry bets, social rivalry, or petty jealousies. This was real. With this thought, he groaned and gripped her tighter.

Draco's mind was spinning so fast that he had no time to think of technique as the intensity of the kiss increased. Pansy was tugging gently on his hair, nibbling at his bottom lip, sucking his tongue deep inside her mouth. He felt like she was devouring him and he wanted nothing more than to let her. He loved the idea of her losing control, of succumbing to her passion. Anything she wanted, he'd gladly let her take. Draco groaned into Pansy's mouth as slipped her hand down to cup his rapidly hardening cock through the thin cotton pyjama bottoms that all of Madame Pomfrey's overnight guests were forced to wear.

"Merlin, Pans," Draco moaned when Pansy finally pulled back so they could catch their breaths, "I want you. Want you so badly."

Pansy grinned and ran her nails down his chest, grinning ferally. "Want you too, darling." She laid her palms flat against him and gave a rough push, intending to knock him onto the bed and climb atop him. But the harsh gesture made him yelp in pain as he fell back.

"Oh shit, Draco!" Pansy exclaimed, cupping her hands over her mouth. "I'm so sorry! I forgot!"

"It's fine," Draco gritted out, hid hands fisting the bedsheets as he braced himself through the pain,"just a couple of broken ribs is all"

Pansy pushed out of her seat and fell to her knees beside the bed, her nimble fingers quickly undoing the buttons of his pajama top. She parted the fabric to reveal the smooth white planes of his flat chest, marred with large, angry-looking purple bruises. She bent over and left a trail of kisses so light that they tickled. "I'm sorry, darling. I never meant for you to get hurt," she said between kisses. "Not physically at least," she added wryly.

Draco gave a small snort and relaxed under her attention. "Come here," he said with a jerk of his head, indicating that Pansy should join him on the bed. She smiled and stood, but quickly frowned when she saw he had no intention of making room for her on the small bed.

"Budge over. I don't want to hurt you."

"You wont, I'm fine." Draco tugged at Pansy's arm, trying to pull her onto him, but she resisted.

"I don't think so, Mr. Malfoy," Pansy lilted as she pulled her wand from her robes and cast a silent spell that widened the bed. She walked around and crawled in the other side. "Not tonight, not here. I want you fully healed first," Pansy bit gently on his earlobe, "so that I can break you all over again."

Her words shot a bolt of desire straight through him to the pit of his belly, but he knew he would have to wait.

Pansy settled in at his side and laid her head on his shoulder gingerly. "Is this all right?"

Draco gave a contended sigh and kissed the top of her head, "It's perfect."

The pair laid there in quiet, each lost in their own thoughts, trying to process how much things had just changed between them. It was more than just a ceasefire, they'd silently agreed to give whatever it was between them a proper go. After years of friendship, followed by years of rivalry, their new position felt surreal—surreal, but exciting. Draco played with Pansy's hair as her fingers danced lightly over the exposed skin of his stomach.

"Pansy," Draco broke their quiet intimacy, "what are you going to do about Potter?"

Pansy gave a groan, she'd forgotten about the casualties.

"I hope you're really cruel about it," Draco smiled to himself, imagining a scene in which Potter ended up thoroughly humiliated and Draco could make a show of staking a public claim on the girl Potter fancied. "I can't wait to see his face."

Pansy rolled her eyes. "I think I'm going to really nice about it actually. I don't want him to hate me." She could feel Draco stiffen at her side and bit back a smirk, even though he wouldn't be able to see it.

"Please don't tell me you've actually come to like the speccy git?" Draco accused.

"Oh, he's not _that_ bad Draco," Pansy sighed. "Besides, I need to keep myself in his favor, just in case."

Draco's stomach knotted with apprehension. Surly Pansy wasn't already thinking about leaving him for someone else. They'd only just gotten together 10 minutes ago! "In case what?" he asked, his voice tight.

Pansy twisted her neck so that she could look up at Draco, the worry on his face giving her a sense of satisfaction. "In case you need to be taught a lesson, of course," she said sweetly.

Draco scoffed. "You've already played that hand once, Pans. It won't work again."

"We'll see," Pansy laughed. It was a short, bright laugh and sounded like music to Draco's ears. He loved to hear it, even if it was directed at him.

Draco pulled Pansy in closer, bending his head down to capture her lips in a kiss. It was an awkward angle, but he didn't care. "You're incorrigible, Parkinson, absolutely incorrigible," he said with a smile as she pulled away.

Pansy gave a languid stretch and settled back into a comfortable position. "I know," she smiled, "but that's what you like about me."

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><p><strong>Author's Note: Finally, right?<strong>

**Only one more chapter to go! And I promise to make it smuttttttty.**

**Reviews, please?**


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Note: 1,000,000 apologies for how long it took me to get this final chapter out, and the shortness of it. I just wanted one last smutty hurrah before Pansy and Draco's happily ever after. But so much happened in my own life between writing chapter 9 and this one (I moved 1,000 miles and got back into school) that I neglected it. I'm really sorry about that to everyone who has been faithfully following this story. I really appreciate your readership. And a special thanks to those of you who rode my ass and bugged me about finally finishing this, you know who you folks are. I always knew that I would come in and let the kids fuck once more, it was just a matter of revisiting it and getting it done.**

**So yes. Thanks to everyone who has been reading this! Dransy forever!**

**xoxo thusspakekate**

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><p>Draco had never been this nervous in his entire life. Not before his first quidditch tryout, not before OWLs, not even before the time he'd lost his virginity. He was far from inexperienced— and it wouldn't even be his first time with Pansy—but something about it felt different, more important than any other time in his life. This would be his first time with Pansy since they had called their truce and formed an shaky but heartfelt relationship. He ran his sweaty palms along the thighs of his trousers, trying to hide any indication of just how nervous he truly was. Steeling himself, he knocked quietly on the door.<p>

"Come in," a soft, female voice called from inside.

Draco pushed open the door and walked in slowly. It took his eyes a moment to adjust to the dimness of the room, dark except for the soft glow of a dozen or so candles. Pansy was lounging on her bed, wearing a thin black dressing gown, partially opened to reveal the hint of a black lace bra and knickers set. Despite her relaxed posed and bold wardrobe choice, Draco could see uncertain shyness in her smile.

"Pansy," he breathed as he took a hesitant step into the room. "You look..." he trailed off. He didn't have the words to describe how she looked. She looked more beautiful than he had ever seen her, soft and vulnerable. His heart swelled at the knowledge that he was one of the few people—if not the only person—who got to see this side of Pansy. He loved and respected her ruthlessness, her ferocity, her utter disregard for conventional niceties. He'd been on the wrong side of her anger and knew how viciously she could exact her revenge. She was as brazen as her outfit, but he knew the layers that lay beneath her steely glare. He knew, because he was the same. At that was why they belonged together.

Draco realized he must have stood there staring for too long, because the humor had faded from Pansy's face. She shifted slightly, pulling the robe closed around herself defensively. "Sorry, I thought you'd like—"

Draco rushed forward, his own nervousness forgotten. "You look beautiful," he assured her, finishing the thought he'd let fall off minutes before. He climbed onto the bed. "Don't hide," he whispered as he parted the fabric of her robe, exposing her again to his gaze. His eyes raked over her body, drinking in the pale glow of her skin, the gentle swell of her breasts, the smooth curve of her belly. It was hard to believe that someone known for being so hard could look so soft.

Pansy could feel her breath coming in shallow pants as she lie still, pinned to her spot beneath Draco's scrutiny. His expression was curious and open. There was no trace of his trademark sneer, none of the hard lines that were so reminiscent of his father. Pansy decided she liked him best like this and made a silent promise to do whatever it took for him to look like this way always. She could see the marvel in his eyes as he looked at her and it made her swell with pride.

Draco ran the tips of his fingers up her torso, memorizing the dips and soft angles of her body. Although it was the gentlest of touches, Pansy shivered. The softness, the waiting, the expectation, it was almost too much. "Draco, please," she whispered. He lifted his eyes to meet her's.

"Kiss me," she breathed.

Draco leaned down and after a moment's hesitation, their lips met. Pansy wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer as their mouths moved in tandem. Pansy opened to him and Draco pushed forward, taking everything she was giving him and wanting so much more. He pushed down the sense of urgency that came hand in hand with being a teenaged wizard; he wanted this—whatever it was—to last.

Pansy felt as though she were melting into the bed. Draco's weight on top of her was reassuring, yet she clung to him like he was a lifeline. The heat and intensity of their kissing increased gradually, each waiting for the subtlest of signs from the other to push forward. There was a sense of fragility in the moment, but it only served to make it seem that much more precious. When Draco lowered his head to nibble gently on the joint of Pansy's neck and shoulder, she knew that there was no going back.

Pansy gave a small moan and arched her body in offering as Draco kissed a trail across her clavicle and down between her breasts. He brought his hand up to cup her breast through the lace of her bra, trailing his thumb over covered nipple. Pansy let out a small cry, wholly surprised by how just that small motion lit a fire that spread across her skin and threatened to burn her entire body. She could feel Draco's smile against her stomach as his trail of tender kisses traveled further south. Her stomach muscles clenched involuntary as he worked. It tickled slightly, but not unpleasantly. This slow tease was so much different than the way he'd touched her in the past, but so much better in its own tortuous way.

Draco paused when his path led to the top of her knickers. He gently nudged her legs apart and settled himself between them. With his lips hovering an inch above the over heated skin of her lower stomach, Draco whispered, "May I?"

Pansy's eyes shot open. She'd been so lost in the sensation that she'd almost forgotten where she was. "If you don't," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "I'll hex your sodding balls off."

Draco chuckled, but went back to work wordlessly. He continued his trail of kisses over her mons and down to the junction between her legs. Pansy spread her thighs apart further, granting him better access and silently spurring him on. Draco made no move to remove her knickers. The already damp fabric grew even wetter as began to kiss her through her underwear. Pansy whined unabashedly, rocking her hips slightly as she tried to find the extra friction that was denied to her by the thin layer of lace.

"Draco, please," she begged quietly.

"Please what?" Draco asked without stopping. Pansy could feel the warmth of his breath against her.

"Please, touch me," she keened and thrust her hips, a little more harshly this time, grinding herself against his face.

Draco's long fingers trailed up the length of her quivering thighs, leaving a trail of goosepimples in their wake. "But I am touching you," he pointed out.

Pansy reached down to thread her fingers through Draco's hair, just as soft and blonde as it had been when they were children. On the surface it seemed like such an intimate gesture, but her grip strengthened and she gave his hair a sharp tug. "Just do it," Pansy groaned as she rolled her hips, rubbing herself against his face wantonly. "Don't fucking tease, Draco. Not now."

Pansy heard Draco chuckle and mumble something that sounded like "Yes ma'am," but it didn't matter, because he was shifting her hips into the air so he could slide her knickers down and off. Returning to his position between her legs, Draco used his slender fingers to peel apart the outer lips of her cunt. He sucked in his breath as he stared at her—pink and wet, open and inviting. Beautiful.

Pansy trembled slightly underneath him. She held her breath, waiting. Just when she felt she might go mad from anticipation, she felt the soft, warm swipe of Draco's tongue. Arousal flooded to her center and she bit back a gasp when she finally remembered to breathe. Draco was working at a tortuous pace, licking the length of her in slow, deliberate strokes designed to tease. His tongue traced circles around her clit. Pansy pushed at Draco's head, trying to force him to focus on the oversensitive bundle of nerves, but he moved away quickly.

Abandoning her clit, he wrapped his arms around her thighs and shifted her lower body, lifting her hips slightly so he could sink lower into the bed. He began to lap at her entrance, relishing the sweetness of her arousal straight from the source. Stiffening his tongue, he slipped it inside her, essentially fucking her with the tip of his tongue.

Pansy keened, overwhelmed with want. She wrapped her thighs around Draco's head and squeezed, trying to force him closer to her and deeper inside. When Pansy began to roll her hips, she felt the tip of his nose brush lightly against her previously ignored clit.

"Oh, fuck!" she gasped at the sensation. She tightened her grip around Draco's head and rolled her hips again, grinding herself shamelessly against his face. He continued to stab her with his tongue as she brought herself higher and higher, but she was distracted by the urgent need to be filled. Draco's oral teasing had brought her this far, but made her feel empty and desperate all the same.

"I need you, Draco. Please," she moaned and she continued to buck against him. His tongue was as deep inside her as anatomically possible, but it was nowhere near enough. She wanted to feel full and stretched, wanted to feel him go as deep as possible. "I need you inside me. Fuck me, please," she begged.

"Come for me, first," Draco said, his voice muffled between her legs.

Pansy's grip in his hair strengthened as she tried to pull him away from her. "No," she breathed, panting heavily. "I want to come with you inside me. Please, Draco, fuck me."

Draco slipped his tongue out from inside her. He took another broad swipe of her cunt, but instead of coming up completely, he fastened his lips around her clit and gently began to suck. Pansy let out a strangled cry, nearly coming undone at the sensation.

"No! Stop!" she yelped as she tried desperately to scramble away from Draco's touch. "Stop it, or I'll come!"

Draco lifted his head, wet lips shining in the soft candlelight. He sat back on his knees, but made no attempt to wipe his face. "That's the idea, Pansy," he smiled coyly.

Pansy's breath hitched as she stared at him, the evidence of her own arousal and his skills smeared messily over the lower half of his face. With speed that surprised them both, Pansy twisted out of his reach and pounced, pushing Draco onto his back. They bounced slightly as they hit the mattress, but Pansy kept him pinned underneath her as she straddled his waist. She wanted nothing more than to snog him senseless, to taste herself on his lips.

Draco had no problem matching the new sense of urgency as they kissed. He pushed the dressing gown from Pansy's shoulders and let his hands roam down her back as their mouths crashed together wildly. He cupped her pert arse in his hands, giving each cheek a firm squeeze before pulling her against him.

Pansy could feel his cock, trapped beneath his trousers, between her legs. Without breaking the kiss, she began to rock her hips against him, angling herself so that each time her hips rolled, the head of his cloth-covered prick rubbed against her clitoris. She didn't care if she was staining his expensive clothing. She was no longer thinking about what she doing, acting purely on the most primitive of impulses.

Two sets of hands fumbled to undo the buttons of Draco's shirt. Draco swatted Pansy's hands away, so she concentrated on undoing the button and fly of his trousers. Unwilling to unseat herself for too long as they disrobed Draco, he was barely out of his clothes before Pansy pushed him back against the bed and straddled him again.

Reaching behind herself, she took his cock in hand and gave it a few short tugs. It was thick and solid in her hand. She could feel the warm dribble of precome leaking from the head. She continued to grind her hips against him as he pumped his hips in the air, fucking the ring her delicate hands made around his cock.

Draco reached up, palming Pansy's breasts through the lace of her bra. "Take it off," he pleaded. "I want to see you, all of you."

Pansy gave a wicked smile before reaching behind her back to undo the clasp. Holding the front of the bra to her chest, she made a show of slipping off both straps before letting the entire thing fall away. She heard Draco's sharp intake of breath when they were finally reveal, his grey eyes nearly black with lust as he watched them bounce slightly each time their hips rolled together.

"Merlin," Draco gasped, tearing his eyes away from Pansy's chest and looking into her own. "You're so bloody beautiful, Pansy."

Pansy had been told she was pretty countless times throughout her life, but this was the first time she had ever really believed it. She knew she was a technically attractive young woman, even with the small up-turned character of her nose. But the look of reverence and adoration of Draco's face was anything but technical.

Cupping his hand in her face, Pansy leaned down and kissed him. Not with the same fire they had just shared, but with the tenderness and affection that she felt in her heart. Draco's neck strained as he pushed up into the kiss. He didn't care if it was an awkward angle, he didn't care about anything besides showing Pansy through the kiss what he knew she wasn't ready to hear.

Pansy gave Draco's cock another gentle pull. Without breaking the kiss, she angled it towards her and sank back, completely sheathing him inside her in one smooth stroke.

Draco's eyes snapped open and his let out a strangled gasp. Pansy kissed the corners of his mouth as she began to rock back and forth, letting his cock slide out a few inches before swallowing it down to the root again. Draco's hands gripped her hips firmly and his eyes rolled back in his head; he felt as though he were drowning in pleasure.

"You feel so good inside of me," Pansy breathed into his ears seductively, nipping at his earlobe and sucking into her mouth in a manner that had Draco's toes curling instantaneously. "Does it feel good for you?"

"Oh fuck, Pansy," Draco began to babble. "Yes, fuck yes! You feel amazing. My gods," he exhaled sharply.

Pansy began to straighten up, intending to change the angle and fuck herself on Draco's cock properly. But Draco refused to let her go. Wrapping his arms around her back, they sat up together. Pansy shifted her legs so that they were wrapped around Draco's hips, his own spindly legs stretched out in front of them. She couldn't bounce on him as she had planned, but with her sitting squarely in Draco's lap and their bodies pressed flush together, this was even better.

Hips moved in unison as they ground against each other. Pansy relished the stretch of this position, the depths to which Draco's cock could reach inside her. She let her head loll back as Draco began to kiss and nibble on her neck and collar bone. Her hands threaded through his hair again and she pulled him against her even tighter, her soft breasts squashed against the smooth planes of his chest.

Warmth began to flood her belly. Pansy could feel herself coming closer and closer to orgasm. Draco reached between the bodies, seeking out her breasts. He gave one nipple a sharp pinch and she nearly screamed. She held onto him around his neck and leaned her body backwards, arching her back and offering herself to him. With this slight change of angle, her mound was pressing against Draco's pubic bone. Each time their bodies slid against each other, she could feel the pressure growing on her clit.

"Merlin, Draco. I could fuck you all day," Pansy panted breathlessly. They were both covered in a thin layer of sweat that helped their bodies glide against each other. "Feels so good."

Draco was beyond words, offering only a grunt in agreement as he thrust his hips up sharply.

"Yes!" Pansy yelled. She hadn't thought he could get any deeper inside her, but he just had. "Again, Draco!"

Draco followed her command. He slipped his arms around her waist and cupped each of her arse cheeks in hand, holding her still and opening her up as he began to piston his hips wildly. He was panting now, sharp intakes of breath followed by loud exhales as he thrust up and into her mercilessly. For her part, Pansy just held on, losing herself in the feeling of being thoroughly filled and fucked.

Pansy's nails dug into Draco's back as she felt herself losing control. She was so close to coming she could feel the tension building inside of her. "Oh gods," she moaned, pressed her forehead against his shoulder as Draco continued to fuck her. "Oh gods, I'm going to come. Draco, I'm going to—"

And then it happened. Pansy felt her entire body seize up as the tight coil of desire deep inside her belly snapped. Pleasure hit her in waves, rolling across her overheated skin and making her feel as though she were on fire. Not thinking, he bit down onto Draco's shoulder to stifle her scream. She could feel the skin break beneath her teeth and then heard, as though from a distance, Draco give a strangled cry as well. His grip on her arse became punishing as he lost the rhythm to his thrusting. Then the thrusts stopped all together and Pansy could feel him shaking beneath her. Pulling herself from Draco's chest, she caught the last few seconds of Draco's orgasm written clearly across his face. It wasn't a peaceful, angelic expression. In fact, he looked rather in pain. But it was the most beautiful thing Pansy had ever seen.

Not giving him time to catch his breath, Pansy caught his lips in a punishing kiss the moment she felt his body begin to relax. He let go of her soon-to-be-bruised arse cheeks and wrapped his arms around her back, pulling her against him tightly. The force of her orgasm combined with the glee in her heart left Pansy feeling uncharacteristically giddy and she began to laugh between their kisses.

Draco pulled away and eyed her skeptically. He raised an eyebrow, but said nothing.

Pansy disentangled herself from Draco's grip and lay herself down on the bed, pulling Draco on top of her. They kissed lazily for a few more minutes as they caught their breath. When Pansy reached up to stroke Draco's cheek with her thumb, she thought of the oddity of this thoughtless caress. If anyone had told her a few shorts weeks ago that she would be lying in bed with Draco Malfoy, her heart nearly fit to burst with delight, she would have laughed and then hexed them for good measure. But as she gazed up and into Draco's cool grey eyes, any doubts she had about him melted away.

"You look...pensive," Draco said, eyeing her cautiously. "Please don't tell me you regret that. Because honestly, Pansy, that was the most amazing—"

Pansy lifted her head and silenced him with a quick kiss. Falling back into the pillows, she pulled him down on top of her. Draco nestled his head in her chest and began to absently run his fingers across her breast, tracing small patterns around her hardened nipples.

"I don't regret it at all," she said after a moment, her own hands stroking his soft blonde hair. "I just can't believe it. Of all the arseholes in school, I never imagined it'd be you."

"What would be me?" Draco asked, his voice thick and sleepy.

"I'll tell you another time," she yawned, her own exhaustion taking over. Although she felt it, she wasn't quite ready to say it out loud. "Get some sleep, darling. I expect you fully rested and able to fuck me again in the morning."

She wouldn't have taken Draco for the cuddling type, but she wasn't going to complain. She could feel his smile against her chest as he snuggled up against her. And this time, she was almost certain she had heard a faint "Yes ma'am," before they drifted off to sleep.


End file.
